


Kinship

by kateydidnt



Series: Botosphere [9]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateydidnt/pseuds/kateydidnt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post RotF. The Matrix flared to life at Sam's touch. The Autobots know and accept what this means, but when will Sam? By Eowyn77, but kateydidnt gets credit for the plot bunny. Canon pairings only.</p><p>Posted on FFN under the name Botosphere. Collaborative effort between Kateydidnt, Eowyn77, and Darth Ishtar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Eye of the Beholder

Mikaela watched in wonder as Optimus Prime approached the humans treating Sam. Major Lennox came up behind her shoulder and said in a low voice, "And I thought he was impressive before all this."

"I know what you mean," Mikaela answered, still following Optimus with her eyes as he crouched down to speak with Sam. "When I heard that we'd lost him, I just…I don't think I'd ever felt more disheartened in my life. And then to see him come _back from the dead_."

Lennox half-laughed, shaking his head. "I'll remember that moment 'til my dying day. The whole world changed right then and there. It's not like we were exactly BFFs before, but now…I don't know how to even approach him or what I would say."

Mikaela smiled a little. "There's something more than grandeur surrounding him."

Ratchet crouched down beside them. "There is indeed."

"What do you think it feels like?" Mikaela asked, looking up at the medic. "Dying like that and then coming back?"

"Well, not having any personal experience myself, I can only speculate, but _painful_ comes to mind. And disorienting, I should imagine, though come to think of it, he didn't hesitate at all. From the moment he regained consciousness, he seemed perfectly aware of what must be done."

They lapsed into awed silence, remembering.

Lennox was the first to break it. "How does his…resurrection change things for the Autobots?"

Ratchet settled into a lower crouch, his expression introspective. "Not much. We'll keep a closer optic on him, I think. And prepare for what's to come as best we can. As stunning as this all is, Megatron and Starscream both got away. This war isn't over, as much as I wish it were." In a softer voice, he said, "He's already suffered so much."

Lennox frowned at the thought. "But they'll be intimidated at least, won't they? I mean, they pretty much ran away with their tails between their legs."

"Yes. I think today's events have bought us some much-needed time. Time to observe how his…return will play out. I have no idea how this will change him physically."

Lennox gestured to the heavily-armored Autobot leader. "I think it's kind of obvious, isn't it?"

Ratchet looked down at him in surprise. "You noticed it, too?"

Mikaela gave the Autobot a wry smile. "It's pretty hard not to."

"I'm impressed. I thought only my systems would be sensitive enough to pick up on the subtle changes." His gaze, like the others', was drawn to the triage again. "They're so…indistinct, but I can't help feeling like this is just the beginning. So many questions that only time will answer. How it will impact his life. His growth. His relationships with others. Especially yours, Mikaela."

The humans both turned to stare up at Ratchet. The Autobot's gaze was still distant.

"Mine?" Mikaela stammered. "His relationship with _me_?"

Ratchet was unruffled. "Of course."

Lennox looked over at Prime and then at the boy standing near him. "Are we all talking about Optimus?"


	2. Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes (Eowyn77): Just to be clear, everything except the prologue is in Sam's POV. Hope you enjoy! :)

I hesitated as I stepped out onto the flight deck. The muggy night air was tinged with the unpleasant combination of brine and jet fuel. I'd prefer to be down below in the air conditioning, but I just couldn't sleep.

Not for the reasons someone might think, though. No, Ratchet had insisted that the NEST medics prescribe me copious quantities of pain killers, which he then personally dispensed to me every 4-6 hours as needed. Even now, when I'd had a couple of days to heal, he insisted that I take a Lortab before bed. I tried to write it off as him just being a mother hen, a theory that Bumblebee firmly insisted was the truth. But in the back of my mind, I wondered if it was more than that. Thanks to Ratchet's diligence, there was no possibility of me having either nightmares or an overdose. Last night, I had simply slipped into a gentle, healing, narcotic-induced slumber. I was probably getting hooked on the stupid things, but I didn't want to dream. My waking thoughts were disturbing enough.

Three days. Three days for my whole life to change. Three days for the world to change. Three days for _everything_ to change.

Day one. I saw Optimus' spark punctured, saw the light in his eyes extinguished. I'd always thought the Autobots' analogy for death was kind of odd. Extinguished – it sounded so…mechanical for beings that were obviously so alive. But it was like that – sudden, abrupt. He was alive and then he wasn't, like a candle being blown out. Extinguished. Hope was extinguished, too, on that never-ending day when the aircraft carrier sank and cities around the world fell. The day in which I became the world's public enemy number one. The day that I had to place my life in the hands of Skids and Mudflap (and if that's not desperation, I don't know what is). The day I realized that, instead of being an accidental hero, I was the direct cause of Optimus' death. A part of me died that day, too. I'd like to think it was the selfish part, the childish part that turned away Optimus the one time he'd come to me for help. Even with the All Spark, he'd never _asked_. He never had to.

Day two. I gave in to the insanity that destroyed my great-grandfather. Embraced it, even. There had to be a way to redeem myself, a way to fix this somehow. I refused to believe otherwise, because if I did, then I may as well just curl up in a ball in a corner somewhere until Megatron came for me. Like Bumblebee said, I had to keep Optimus' sacrifice from being in vain. And so we negotiated with the slimeball who'd tortured Bumblebee, negotiated with a 'con, negotiated with Jetfire. And that night Mikaela slept in my arms under the surreal Egyptian stars.

Day three. Hope crumbled to dust in my hands, but for Optimus' sake, I found steel in my soul and raced through fire and brimstone to save him. Because he shouldn't die for me. I wasn't worth it. That was the fatal wrong, and miraculously, here was a chance for me to make it right. If I could bring him back, then I could look Bumblebee in the optics again, could hold Mikaela without the 'what if's' haunting me, could stop the world from becoming an empty echo of Cybertron. If only I could make Optimus live again!

_And then I died._

I don't know what I'd anticipated in terms of an afterlife, but meeting Optimus' ancestors was not it. Hell, I think, was what I'd been expecting. My selfishness had cost Earth our last protector. Every death we'd seen on the news was my fault. My mistake was what set the chain of events in motion. I may not have been the one to kill Optimus, but _it was my fault._ But that's not how the Ancient Primes saw it, and wouldn't they be the best to judge? Even standing there – wherever we were – that thought swelled in me with surety. If I had done wrong by their descendant, they would be the ones to punish me. Instead, they praised me and gave me the reward of fulfilling my quest. And they shared with me – traitorous human me – the secret of the Matrix, that it is not found but earned.

_And then to come back._

Who _earns_ the right to come back to life? Me? Apparently. I mean, the evidence was pretty hard to deny. And the Matrix…I could feel the power of it in my hand, feel the way it hummed, how it was part of something I'd never sensed before but that pulsed in me and in every living thing around me. When I drove the Matrix into Optimus' chest, I felt the pull of that power, felt it channeled through me into him. Maybe 'extinguish' was a better analogy than I thought – because the inverse seemed true, too. A part of me was in the fire of the Matrix that ignited his life again.

Coming back to the present, I took a deep breath of the repulsive night air, shaking my head again. Disturbing thoughts – not because they were morbid, but because they were too much. Too much to comprehend. So much had changed. I couldn't handle it all at once, and I wasn't sure how to chop it all up into bite-sized pieces. Optimus was different, I was different, the dynamic between me and my parents was different. Mikaela and I said "I love you" morning and night. Bumblebee…he was almost worshipful toward me sometimes. And everyone wanted a piece of my time – Major Lennox, Mom and Dad, General Morshower, Mikaela, Skids and Mudflap, Leo, the President, the human medics, and every four hours like clockwork – Ratchet.

So even though he annoyed me sometimes, I was grateful for Ratchet's wisdom in giving me a few nights of good sleep, a few days to process everything, before I had to face my dreams. Even if withdrawal would probably be a nightmare all its own.

But _I_ needed a piece of someone else's time, and that was the reason I was up here instead of pleasantly unconscious in my bed. I walked toward him where he lay back on the flight deck, staring at the stars. It was another disturbing image – seeing him laying down.

He rose to a sitting position when I approached. "Hello, Sam."

"Hello, Optimus."

He extended his hand, offering to hold me. "Will you join me?"

His hand – it was a place, not of safety, but of refuge. Swords or a safety-net, whichever I needed. I climbed into his warm palm. "What are you doing?"

"Appreciating."

I chuckled, knowing the feeling. The taste of orange juice, the clean feeling after a shower, the sound of Mom's laughter, the smell of Bumblebee's leather seats, the sight of Mikaela's sparkling eyes – all were treasures I'd never really understood before. "It's a lot to take in, isn't it."

He knew exactly what I was talking about. "Yes. Yes, it is, boy."

I used to bristle at the word, back before the changing of the world. It had seemed so patronizing, even worse than just calling me 'human.' It was pointing out that I was a _young_ human. But when he had looked at me with reignited eyes and said 'Boy, you returned for me!' with awe and…and love in his voice, I finally heard the word for what it was – a term of endearment. He had no right to call me 'my son,' so 'the boy' was the next best thing for him. And that may have been one of the biggest shocks of all.

"But what brings you out here tonight?" Optimus asked. "Ratchet commed me every thirty seconds until I finally told him that I would personally ensure you took your medication and shut off my receiver."

I chuckled. Yep, that would be Ratchet. Sobering a little, I sighed. "I realized something, and it's been bugging me all day."

"What is it?"

"When…" My voice fell to a hushed, reverent tone. "When I spoke with the Ancient Primes…they told me something…about the Matrix."

I had his undivided attention now. He had known about that part, of course. From what he'd said to others, it was clear he'd known everything that was going on since I first laid hand on the Matrix, but we hadn't talked about it. There hadn't been time.

"Go on."

"They said that it couldn't be found, only earned."

"Yes."

"But…" This was the disturbing part. "But the Fallen used it."

The light in his optics was soft. "Yes, he did."

"But…"

"He was once a Prime, Sam. Once, he was…like you or me."

Once like Optimus. I stared into his kind optics and tried to imagine it – tried to imagine Optimus turning on the Solar Harvester for no other reason than revenge. Tried to imagine him betraying Bumblebee and killing him like the Fallen did his brothers. I shuddered.

"Yes," Optimus said gently. "That is why he was called The Fallen. He was great once."

"But…how…?"

"I do not want to know how he fell," he said, his voice hard. "I hope to never understand how a Prime could do that."

"You fear it." The words were out before I could think about them.

He sighed, looking down. "As one Prime to another, yes."

"WHAT?" _**WHAT?**_

He chuckled and caught me as I almost fell out of his hand.

Was he _really_ saying what I thought he was saying? "I'm not a Prime!" I shouted at him. "I can't be! I'm…I'm just a human. Just a kid."

"You are Sam," he solemnly corrected. "I do not understand it myself, but I do know these two things. The Matrix only responds to a Prime, and I am alive today."

I leaned back in his hand, my head reeling. That couldn't be right. I wasn't a Prime! Even if a human _could_ be a Prime, it wouldn't be _me_. It'd be Major Lennox or…or the President or somebody. Not _me_.

"Sam, Bumblebee saw the dormant Matrix flare to life at your touch. That _only_ happens with a Prime. You spoke with the Ancients, you restored me to life, why is this so difficult for you to believe?"

"Because it's _me_!"

Sudden warmth and a wistful joy filled my chest. "There is a human saying…not being able to see the forest for the trees. Stop letting that little detail keep you from seeing what is plain to the rest of us. It was your fate that you, your hand, would bring me back. You are a Prime."

Here was another great big fact I couldn't break down and couldn't swallow whole. But in the back of my mind, I was relieved to realize why 'Bee was always quoting preachers around me now. It was just the Matrix. It wasn't me.

"It is not a burden you need to shoulder now, but I thought you should be aware."

Because _that_ would help me sleep better at night. "Aware that I'm supposed to be to humanity what you are to the Autobots?"

"I sincerely hope not. I hope you will never have to lead your friends in battle against your brothers." He sighed heavily. "To be honest, I do not know what it means, other than…"

I looked up at him, but he wouldn't meet my gaze. "Other than what?"

"That there is a…kinship between us."

"Kinship as in…friendship?"

He pressed his lips together before finally saying, "As in Ratchet detected Cybertronian alloy particles in your blood. They don't produce energy, but they have been marked by a spark-energy signature. They were not present in any of the scans he'd run before the events in Giza."

His words knocked the wind out of me. There was _more_ alien stuff in my body? "What does that mean?"

"We don't know, but the particles are also present on the surface of your hand's skin and in the scab on the cut there."

The Matrix. It was just dust… Holy crap! "It got into my blood?"

"Apparently." He hesitated.

"There's more bad news here, I can feel it. Just spit it out, Prime."

"My spark-energy signature is different since being…"

"Reignited," I supplied.

He nodded, liking the term. "Since being reignited, my spark's energy signature has changed slightly. It is very close to yours."

"What do you mean 'close?' How close?"

"Almost as close as Skids' is to Mudflap's."

I tried to wrap my mind around it. "We're blood brothers?" Optimus Prime and I were _blood brothers_?

Optimus blinked, researching the term. "It's as good an analogy as any."

I sighed. "Okay, I'm going to pop my pills now and _not_ dream for a while."

"Sam…"

I looked into his earnest face and again he hesitated. "I'm sorry."

I blinked. "For what?"

"For upsetting you. You've endured so much…"

"And you haven't? Look, Optimus, I just…I need time to process all this, but I'm human. I have to do it a little bit at a time."

He nodded and lowered me to the flight-deck again. "I understand. But would you be willing to speak with me again tomorrow? There's another matter I want to talk with you about."

" _Another_ one?"

"Not exactly. It's related to you being a Prime, but that was the biggest news I had for you. The rest is just details."

Great. Details.

"When you're ready, let me know."

"Sure. Tomorrow. Same time, same place."

Optimus reached around beside him and handed me a bottle of water. So I could take my pills. Right. "Here's to legal narcotics," I said, toasting Optimus before swallowing them down. "See you in the morning."

"Sleep well, boy."

The warmth behind the word made me smile despite myself and the insanity that was my life. That, at least, had been a good change. "You, too, Optimus."


	3. Ambassador

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick comment on canon: We're using the first two movies for our primary canon source, with Transformers: Defiance for information about Optimus' past and the novelization for a little bit about the All Spark and Matrix.
> 
> And for the record, this is canon pairings. There are intense relationships between some of the characters, but the only romance here is between Mikaela and Sam. If you squint and look sideways (or if you've read my fic "Bright Spot," and yes, that's a shameless plug), you might see some Bumblebee/Arcee, but that's it. Seriously, don't even bother squinting at anything else because it ain't there, folks. :)

When I woke up, Mikaela was sitting up in her bunk, reading by a little lamp. I groggily said, "Hey, beautiful."

She looked up from her book and smiled at me. "Morning, sleepyhead."

Sleepyhead? I sat up, rubbing my bleary eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

 _Crap!_ I stumbled out of bed. "I was supposed to have a videoconference with the President…"

"Ratchet got you out of it," Mikaela interrupted, setting her book aside and rising to her feet. "He got the NEST doctors to pull medical rank and isn't letting a soul even come down the corridor. He only let me back into the room if I promised to not wake you up."

My head was still spinning from the drugs. "He's here?"

"Standing guard outside the door."

I suddenly remembered Prime's revelation last night and realized that I would have an Autobot bodyguard at all times now. Great. Of course, Bumblebee had essentially been my bodyguard for the last two years, but he was _Bumblebee_. He was a buddy who just happened to be a kick-butt transforming Camaro. Ratchet was… _Ratchet_.

"You okay?"

"Great. Just…great. Hey, um…I need to talk to Ratchet for a second. Alone."

"You don't look okay," Mikaela pressed, frowning.

"It's the Lortab. I'm fine."

"Then why do you need to talk to Ratchet?"

I was so not ready to tell anyone else that Optimus Prime and I were blood brothers. "It's a guy thing."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You're going to ask Ratchet for advice about your love life?"

"A…a doctor thing," I stuttered and she smirked.

There was a knock on the door – obviously the Autobot could overhear us.

She squeezed my hand. "Promise me you'll tell me later?"

"Later. Sure."

Giving me one last concerned look, she opened the door. Ratchet's holoform stood in the doorway, looking almost as intimidating as his robot form.

I hadn't even known about holoforms until two days ago. It was the first evening after the battle at Giza, and the admiral over the fleet we were sailing with had been pretty hostile toward the idea of having alien warrior robots on his ship. The Decepticons and Autobots were one and the same in his mind – uncontrollable monsters. And honestly, after thousands of people died at Cybertonian hands, I couldn't completely blame him for freaking out. This was why Optimus and Bumblebee and the others needed me, because I knew the truth and, especially now, other humans might be willing to listen to me.

So far, though, I'd been nothing but a spectacular failure. No matter how many times I told the admiral that they were Autobots, he insisted on calling them 'the machines.' And then there was the thing with the holoforms. I looked pretty stupid when I didn't recognize someone I'd claimed as a friend. My cell phone got smashed when we went through the space bridge, so the only way to get a hold of me was face-to-face contact. The meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff had gone over by almost an hour, so I didn't have a chance to run down to the Autobot cargo bay to get more meds from Ratchet. We just went right into the next meeting with this admiral (dang, what was his name?) Leo, Lennox, and some other brass. Almost two hours into that meeting, some guy in a mechanic's jumpsuit had barged in. He'd just walked right over, pressed a pill into my hand, and said in Ratchet's voice, "ibuprofen 800," before leaving as abruptly as he came. Lennox had been the one to recognize Ratchet and explained it to us. I was as floored as everyone else.

Sleeping in when I should be meeting with the President didn't make me feel like a particularly good ambassador, either.

I had another powwow with the admiral at 11 o'clock this morning, and I prayed to high heaven or the Ancient Primes or whoever might be listening that this one would go a little better.

"Mikaela," Ratchet said almost formally.

"Hey Ratch," she greeted him, stepping back and letting him into our quarters. "Do you know where Judy is?"

"She and Mr. Witwicky were in the mess hall at last report."

"Thanks. I'll see you." She gave me one last meaningful look and repeated, "Later."

As soon as the door clicked behind her, I grabbed Ratchet's arm and pushed him toward the only seating in the room – a little chair tucked under a built-in desk. "Optimus told me about the alloy in my blood."

"Good."

"So what can we do about it?"

Confusion crossed his face. "Do?"

"You know. How do we get it out?"

Something like pain flickered in his blue eyes and he looked down at his hands. "You wish to remove the Matrix from you."

"Yes. Obviously. Who knows what that crap is going to do to me?"

His voice was soft. "It will not harm you, Samuel."

He'd called me by my full name yesterday, too, and I suddenly understood why. He was addressing me as a Prime. That was another reason why we had to get this stuff out of my blood – the biggest reason, if I was being honest with myself. I _wasn't_ a Prime. "Do you know that for sure?" I challenged.

Ratchet looked up again, steadily meeting my gaze. "I see no medical reason why the alloy would harm you. The negligible amounts of energy in the particles are stable. The metal itself appears to be inert. And the quantity is so small that it would be indiscernible to any human technology. You're in much more danger from the bacteria on your toothbrush."

That was a low blow. "Don't bring my personal hygiene into this. Can you or can't you get the alloy out?"

"It wasn't an insult, just a statement of fact," Ratchet said defensively. "And even for me, it would be a challenge to remove the Matrix particles. They are many times smaller than the size of a virus and have spread out through your entire body. Of human medical techniques, some sort of modified chelation would be the only option I could think of that might be successful, and that's far from guaranteed. I would have to do some research before I could say with certainty whether I even could or not. The only guaranteed thing is that any procedure will be unpleasant."

I took a deep breath. "Research it."

He nodded his head deferentially and rose to his feet. "If that is what you want." He was to the door before he remembered I hadn't been drugged up yet. Extending his hand with a horse-pill in the palm, he said, "Just ibuprofen again. You'll need your wits about you."

I grimaced, wishing it wasn't true and I could just veg out in front of a TV or computer somewhere like Leo was doing. Maybe after butting heads with the admiral again, Mikaela and I could meet up with him for lunch. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Samuel. I'll see you in six hours." Then he let himself out.

This was good news, I told myself as I hurriedly got ready for the day and walked up to the mess hall to snag a piece of toast on the fly. Ratchet hadn't flat-out said it was impossible, and in the meantime, the particles weren't giving me radiation poisoning.

So why did I suddenly feel guilty?

…

Trying to make up for my failure earlier this morning, I arrived outside the admiral's office five minutes early. The little sign next to the door informed me that his last name was Black. I thought about it for a second, trying to figure out how I'd remember it among the literally dozens of names that had been thrown at me in the last forty-eight hours – black clouds. He was like black storm clouds ruining what should have been a sunny day. Okay.

Major Lennox arrived two minutes after I did. "You doing okay, kid?"

I took a deep breath. "Yeah. Still feeling stupid about standing up the President this morning."

He snorted in amusement. "Believe it or not, his schedule is more flexible than yours right now. I know that we've both got a meeting with the UN Security Council at 1130 our time, a follow-up with the Joint Chiefs of Staff at 1400, a meeting with NATO penciled in at 1500, the British Prime Minister is trying to make an appointment, too, and rumor has it the President wants to meet with you for dinner. Well, he'll be eating breakfast and you'll be eating dinner, but he's trying to squeeze you in again. I'm sure there are a few more bigwigs you'll be meeting with before lights-out."

I turned and slowly, deliberately banged my head against the wall a couple of times. "I need a secretary."

"No joke," Lennox chuckled, contradicting himself. "After the Security Council gets a whack at you, we'll probably be doing this whole song and dance with the Russians and Chinese tomorrow. Been there, done that after NEST ops. You think Mikaela would want to be your secretary?"

"She's busy playing liaison for my parents," I answered. "Keeping them out of trouble. And believe me, _that's_ a full-time job. I need to make some time for _them_ somewhere in my schedule today, too. _Who_ is doing all this scheduling, anyway?"

"Communications department, right now. I'll put in a request for you about the secretary thing, though. If nothing else, you need a cell phone so you can program in some reminder alarms. I know yours got destroyed. You don't want to stand the President up again."

"Yeah, a cell phone would help. A ton."

He pulled one out of his own pocket and powered it down before handing it to me. "Here. Use mine until we can get another one for you. Just make sure you turn it off before any meetings." In a low voice, he added, "It has all the guys programmed in for texting, and they're notorious for crashing meetings. They're too used to the privacy of internal comms."

Before I could thank him, the admiral's assistant opened the door for us, and holding the phone like a lifeline, I stepped through the doorway and into the fate I'd resisted for so long – Autobot ambassador. He we go again, I thought.

"Thank you for sparing me some of your precious time," the admiral said to me dryly. "Have a seat."

Sitting down in the cushy chair opposite his desk, I said, "Thank you, sir, for agreeing to see me again."

"So what else did you want to discuss?"

I took a deep breath. "The Autobots are requesting more freedom of movement. They received notice yesterday evening that they are restricted to their vehicle forms even within their cargo hold."

Admiral Black frowned. "Requesting? I was under the impression that these machines do anything they damn well please. The reason I issued that order was because their mechanic broke into that meeting. The big one was sprawled out on my flight deck last night, even after getting orders about staying put."

"At _my_ request," I answered. "He is their leader, and we needed to meet privately. _He_ doesn't have his own office."

"So turn off the other machines."

I felt my irritation rising again. "They don't just turn off. The Autobots aren't laptops."

"Then have the leader email you the file or whatever. I don't want it where it can damage more of my fleet's planes."

'It' again. I spent a full fifteen minutes that first day trying to convince Admiral Black that the right pronoun for Optimus was ' _he_.' I only had a few minutes with the man today. I was reasonably sure I could make it that long without trying to strangle him.

Taking another deep breath, I said, "I needed to _consult_ with him. If I could do that effectively via email, I would be chilling in my college dorm instead of shaking hands with you and the President and the British Prime Minister."

"Civilians," Black grumbled as if he hadn't heard me. "By sitting out there, the leader was practically _inviting_ an attack. We lost the Roosevelt. We're not going to lose another human life to these aliens, not if I have anything to say about it."

Well, at least he was calling them aliens sometimes, instead of just machines. Progress. "I understand that, sir. I do. But they were already confined to quarters. What you're doing now is ordering them to spend every minute of the day in a coma or in bed with their mouths shut. We give more freedom to our most hardened criminals, and the Autobots have done nothing but protect human life. They are sentient beings. How can we expect them to treat us like people if we don't do the same for them?"

Admiral Black expression was hard. "Tell the machines I'll consider their request. Anything else?"

Not unless we wanted to have another argument about the 'it' thing. "No sir."

"Dismissed."

As I stood, I demanded, "How soon will you have an answer? Optimus and I have another meeting scheduled for this evening."

"I'll have it for you before your conference with NATO."

Frowning at his back, I stood and walked out, Lennox with me.


	4. Human

Lennox handed me a sheet of paper as we walked to the nearest lift. "Names and faces of the UN Security Council members you'll be meeting with this afternoon. Learn it and quick."

Huh. Until today, I hadn't even heard of the UN Security Council. "So…who exactly are these people?"

Lennox rolled his eyes at my ignorance. "UN representatives for the more powerful nations in the world. U.S., England, France, China, and Russia are the permanent members and…"

" _France_?"

He shrugged. "Beats me. Anyway, there are the permanent five member-nations and then another ten that are elected by region. They've been briefed on the basics concerning the Autobots, the Fallen, and Giza. They shouldn't really be asking you any questions about the battle – that's what I'm there for. You're mostly there to represent the Autobots."

Yep, that's what I (hadn't really) signed up for. But then I caught what he'd said. "Mostly?"

"Well they're going to be curious about _you_ , too."

I sighed deeply and Lennox nudged me with his elbow. "You're alive to tell the tale, kid. Count your blessings."

"Right."

I had no experience with the international stuff yet. The first day after the battle had been spent recovering for the most part, with a couple of hours of debriefing with people here on the ship. Most of the second day had been spent debriefing – via videoconference with people at the Pentagon in the morning and then locally again for the afternoon and evening. This could get interesting, I thought as we walked into the room.

And it _was_ interesting, in a sadly familiar way. After a few pleasantries, it devolved into a reenactment of my extended family's annual Thanksgiving argument, except these people elevated it almost to an art-form. Everybody kept trying to make their point and not really bothering to listen to anyone else's, just like the Witwicky clan but in slow-motion because we had to wait for the translators. People did ask me a few questions, mostly along the lines of "Does it creep you out to be near the machines?" Didn't matter how many times I told them that I considered the Autobots my friends, I think I was asked that question in every language there. If I didn't take the narcotics tonight, I'd probably have nightmares about people badgering me in every known language and me not being able to answer. Definitely popping my pills.

The meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff (the JCS, Lennox kept correcting me) was tougher, and not just because Lennox wasn't there for the second half of it. Instead of treating me like a curiosity, they were after me for specifics, especially about Alice. The Autobots had told them she was probably a Pretender (the term was news to me), and the JCS wanted to know everything I could remember about her. Where we met, what she'd said, what she looked like when she transformed. Not pleasant memories by any stretch of the imagination.

Eventually, one of the generals (I gave up trying to keep them straight) picked up a piece of paper. "Mr. Spitz says, and I quote, 'that Alice thing played tonsil hockey with him. Totally raped his mouth.' Would you care to elaborate?"

Gah! "Not really. Humped in the mouth by a mountain ox was my description to Mikaela."

"He was concerned about…" Again he read from the page in front of him, "disgusting little bot-spawn gestating in his stomach or something."

I fought the gag reflex that swept over me – again. I was _so_ going to kill Leo. We could make it look like a Decepticon did it…somehow.

"Now, son," the general continued, "I understand this was difficult for you, but let's talk mechanics. How much esophageal penetration WAS there?"

"We're talking Roto-rooter. Sirs, Ratchet ran a complete diagnostic scan. Ask him. Having a probe-bot shoved up my nose was bad enough – there's _no way in hell_ I'm going give birth to one of them. End of story."

"Well," another general said with a smirk, "I think that's our last question for you right now. We'll want to meet with you again tomorrow, though."

Ending the meeting on that pleasant thought, we broke for lunch. Naturally.

Captain Wilder and a couple of his aides snatched me up. "If you'll follow me, we'll be joining my officers and Admiral Black in the captain's mess."

"No." After the meetings I'd been through, it was tempting my self-control too much to be within slugging distance of the admiral.

Captain Wilder gave me a surprised look. "Excuse me?"

I hadn't meant for it to come out so sharply. I tried again. "If you don't mind, I'd rather eat with my friends for lunch."

Wilder suddenly smiled. "They're welcome to join us."

"Thank you for the invitation, but I want a _casual_ meal. I've been on display and verbally poked and prodded for the last three days. I just want to be a kid having lunch with his girlfriend and his roommate. No offense."

The captain nodded slightly. "You disappoint me, son, but I understand."

"Thank you, sir. Maybe another time."

"As soon as you have a secretary," he deadpanned, "I'll book a meal with you."

"You get me a secretary, and I'll _happily_ have lunch with you."

"Deal. Enjoy your lunch."

"Thanks. You, too."

Heading toward the mess hall, I flipped open my phone only to realize that Mikaela's cell hadn't survived the space bridge, either, and that I'd smashed Leo's phone. I couldn't remember Simmons having one, and the Decepticons had taken away my parents' phones. Crap!

Turning on my heel, I raced back to Wilder. "Captain? Sir?"

He turned, looking almost hopeful. "Change your mind?"

I ducked my head a little, embarrassed. "I just realized I have no way of finding everyone. Can we, I don't know, page them or something?"

"The people in Communications will be the ones you need." Turning to one of his aides, Wilder said, "Show him there."

"Yessir."

I followed him down the corridor. So. Finally. A chance to meet the evil people who were running my life. I had a few choice words for them.

Leading me into a room _full_ of panels with switches and computer consoles, my handler announced, "Ensign Park!"

Park looked up and, seeing me, eagerly crossed to us. "Mr. Witwicky, sir."

"Are you the one in charge of my schedule?" I demanded.

"Yes sir. I oversee it."

"Then you and I need to talk. I know you've got hot shots from around the world hounding you for a piece of my time, but I need at least one meal a day with my friends and parents. My folks and Mikaela Baines and Leo Spitz and Simmons. And Lennox and Epps if you can swing it. I need a little sanity here. I'm a human being, and you guys have been running me ragged."

Shoulders straightening to attention, he obediently said, "Yes sir."

Wow. It was _that_ easy? I should have done this days ago. "I also want you to schedule a standing appointment every evening between me and Optimus Prime. Preferably on the flight deck."

"Optimus Prime, sir?"

Oh, for crying out loud! "Yes. Optimus Prime. The big red and blue Autobot. You know, the one who saved the planet?"

"Oh. I wasn't aware it would want…Yes sir."

It probably wasn't fair to him, but I'd _had_ it with the whole 'machines' thing. " _He_ ," I snapped. "Optimus Prime is a person and male." Or at least, he used a male pronoun. "He. Him. His. Not 'it.' _NEVER_ 'it.' Got that?"

"Yes sir!"

"And I mean it. I want you to _always_ use the correct pronoun for him, not just when I'm around or when you're addressing him. Every communication that goes through your department, I want you to talk about him like a person not a thing. If I hear you've been doing otherwise…well…let's just say you know who I rub elbows with, and somebody will have your head. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

I nodded, satisfied that _somebody_ at least was going to start treating Optimus with some of the respect he deserved. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Now, the reason I'm here is I want to meet up with my friends for lunch and I have no idea where they are."

Nodding briskly, he brought me to a female communications officer or worker or whatever. "Jefferson, Mr. Witwicky requires his party to meet with him immediately."

She pulled up a scheduling program on her computer. "Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky and Miss Baines are taking a tour of the flight deck," she said, jotting a few notes down on a piece of paper in front of her. Pulling up a different schedule, she said, "Mr. Spitz and Mr. Simmons are both in separate follow-up debriefings."

"What about Lennox and Epps?" I asked.

"They are in a briefing with their unit."

"Okay. I want everyone but Epps and Lennox to meet with me in the mess hall as soon as they can. I'll be over by the drink dispenser."

"Yes sir," she smartly said.

Wilder's aide had left, so I walked down to the mess hall by myself. Before I'd finished filling my tray, though, I heard Mom calling, "Sammie? Sammie!"

I was Samuel Prime to the Autobots and Mr. Witwicky to the JCS, so why couldn't she just call me 'Sam' and leave me a little bit of dignity? Setting my tray down, I returned her tight hug. "Hi, Mom."

"I thought we wouldn't see you _at all_ today," she babbled. "They just keep hauling us off to show us boring guns and stuff."

"Ha," Dad scoffed. "You liked it when they let you sit in the cockpit of that fighter-jet."

I choked on the mental image of my mom as a fighter pilot.

Mikaela grinned at my expression. Seeing her face made everything suddenly right in my world. "Hey, beautiful."

"Hey, famous," she answered. "We've already eaten, but we wanted to sit with you for a little bit at least."

"Thanks," I said, picking up my tray again. "Leo and Simmons will get here if they can."

"Your father sat in the cockpit, too," Mom said as we sat down at an empty table. "In both the jet and a medical helicopter. I wish we still had our camera!"

I wolfed down my steak and potatoes as they gave me a complete run-down of their tour. Mikaela sat beside me, her hand on my knee. It was a nice dose of sanity to just be together, except for the hand-on-the-knee thing – that was great. I wondered briefly if Mikaela and I would have time to slip down to our quarters for a quick make-out session before I had to meet with the NATO representatives. I decided we probably wouldn't. This day sucked. And it looked like we'd be doing this whole thing again tomorrow, but in Chinese.

"So how's your day going?" Mom finally asked.

Pushing my tray back and crossing my arms on the table, I put my head down. "I stood up the President this morning, got treated like a circus side-show freak in front of the UN Security Council, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff raked me over the coals. At this rate, the Autobots are going to fire me as their ambassador."

"Sam," Mikaela said, her voice firm and serious, "I'm breaking up with you."

I snorted and then busted out laughing. What a woman, reminding me that someone, at least, found my persuasive abilities compelling. Lifting my head, I saw that she was grinning. My parents' faces were matching expressions of horror and disbelief, and Mikaela started laughing, too, when she saw them. Which only made me laugh harder.

When I could finally catch my breath again, I kissed her lightly. "I _love_ you, Mikaela Baines."

"Love you, too." She returned my kiss and softly said, "You're doing your best, and no one expects anything more. And I have that on good authority. We all went down in the Autobot cargo bay this morning. Optimus and the others are nothing but grateful."

Of course they were. They were annoying that way sometimes.

Leo and Simmons joined us just as I was beginning on my dessert – brownies. "And you can't have any!" I told my mom. She claimed she didn't know what I was talking about, and we all had a good laugh at her expense as we told Mikaela about the laced brownies. Was it really only a week ago? Mom apparently didn't remember any of it and said we were making it all up. Leo, punk that he is, sided with her. Before we got off this ship, I was going to find a way to get back at him, and I knew just who to have help me, if I could ever slip down to the Autobot cargo bay to talk to the twin terrors.

Simmons just shook his head and muttered, "Mothers."

All too soon, I saw one of Wilder's aides working his way across the mess hall toward us, and I checked the time on Lennox's cell. Quarter to three. Playtime was up. "Gotta get back to the grind," I said, giving my mom a peck on the cheek and Mikaela a lingering kiss. "I think I'm meeting some bigwigs from NATO this time. And then dinner with President Obama sometime this evening. I don't know when we'll meet up again."

"Ohh!" Mom sighed. "Can we come?"

"Judy," Dad chided her while I said, "I doubt it, Mom. But I'll ask."

"I'll take your tray," Mom said, shooing me away. "And good luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it." Taking a deep breath, I stood and walked across the mess hall, meeting the aide half-way.


	5. Leader

The aide surprised me by handing me a sealed envelope as we walked toward the mess hall exit. I opened it and read the page inside. "The Autobots shall remain confined to the cargo bay unless accompanied by Mr. Samuel Witwicky. They have full freedom of movement within the bay, so long as they do not use their holoforms _**UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES**_. The first violation of that stipulation will result in permanent lockdown for ALL of the Autobots for the duration of the voyage." It was signed by Admiral Black.

Good news! I slapped the page against my palm with a satisfied grin and turned to the aide. "How long do we have until the meeting?"

"The British representative has been delayed, so we won't be starting until 1530 hours."

I frowned at him. "Then why did you come to get me so early?"

"I didn't. Admiral Black wanted me to bring the note to you."

I wistfully glanced back toward the mess hall where everyone was still chatting, but I decided the Autobots needed to hear this first. "Then I need to go to the Autobot cargo bay."

The aide nodded. "Right this way, sir."

…

Bumblebee zipped over to me in his alt-form, singing out a waaay-too-cheerful, " _Good morning, good morning, the best to you each morning_!"

"It's afternoon, 'Bee," I pointed out, chuckling at his enthusiasm as he squealed to a stop just a foot from me. "Good news, guys!" I held up the paper. "You're allowed to transform again."

Instantly, Autobot frames began unfolding and stretching around me. The aide took a step back, but I let it slide. They _were_ intimidating the first time you saw it – and wicked-cool for the next ten thousand times. Optimus knelt in front of me. "Thank you, Sam."

"It was the least I could do, and I didn't do much. Just argued with the admiral. And sorry I didn't get down here this morning. It's been a crazy day."

"I'm familiar with the phenomenon," Optimus answered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Yeah, I'll bet. "So yeah. Just don't use your holoforms _at all_ and don't wander out of the cargo bay without me, and we're good. First violation of that by anyone gets you all in lockdown again." Frowning a little, I added, "Sorry you're still so restricted. You guys really shouldn't be treated like this at all."

"Convincing the world will take time," he said. "We understand that, and some people will refuse to accept us. Don't let them trouble you. We are content with this for now."

Again I felt a flash of annoyance. Everybody was demanding something specific from me except him. "Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime, though? Anything you need?"

"Something to shoot at?" Ironhide grumbled.

"That's what Skids and Mudflap are for," Sideswipe snarked from where he sat honing one of his blades.

The twins burst out in unintelligible protest, and I rolled my eyes.

"Permission to throw them overboard?" Jolt hopefully asked, flicking a whip in the twins' direction.

"Denied," I deadpanned. "We'd get hit for littering."

Bumblebee doubled over in laughter, and the twins shouted insults at me. Ah, it was good to be among friends. Especially after being surrounded by interrogators and dignitaries for three days straight.

"If holoforms are not allowed," Ratchet said, pulling me aside, "then I'd better dispense your pills now for the rest of the day."

With a resigned sigh, I turned my back on the enthusiastically swearing twins and followed him into his makeshift med bay, Bumblebee shadowing us. There was a high table, maybe eight feet off the ground, and Ratchet casually flipped a tarp over it as we walked in. I glanced at it curiously, but he didn't say anything about whatever project he was working on. Instead, he went to what looked like a foot locker and retrieved two little bags. Scribbling on the labels with a pen-attachment, he handed first one and then the other to me. "Take this ibuprofen at 1700 hours and the Lortab before bed. And I expect you to report to me in the morning before you go to any more meetings."

"I'll do my best. But it _has_ been three days now, Ratchet. I'm sure I'll be fine even if I miss a dose."

He harrumphed. "Your fellow humans have shown a singular disregard for your wellbeing. Do not follow their example."

"Yeah, well, I told off the people who were overbooking me. It shouldn't be a problem in the future. Hopefully."

He nodded once, crossing his arms, deferring to me against his better judgment. Because I was a Prime.

Which reminded me. "Have you made any progress with your research?"

"My preliminary research has been inconclusive. I'd like a few more days before I make any recommendations."

"Okay. But I'm not going to let you stall forever."

"Understood. And I'm not stalling. I've been busy or in lockdown."

"Busy," I skeptically repeated.

"If you doubt me, then come and see." He strode toward the door.

Turning, I almost walked into Bumblebee. The difference between the way he looked now and while laughing at the twins was night and day. His wings and shoulders drooped, his antennas were laid back, even his eyes looked sad as he stared at the worktable, avoiding my gaze. Was it because I didn't want them thinking I was a Prime? Better to disappoint him now than to disappoint him later when his expectations were higher.

I patted his leg as I walked past. "Come on, 'Bee."

His wings perked up a just little and, with a sigh, he followed us. Ratchet and Optimus were standing beside a trailer for a semi. I stopped in my tracks when I saw what they'd painted on the side and read it out loud in disbelief. "Blackbird Weapons and Defense Systems." And on the line underneath, two words were written in smaller letters. "Doom Bringer." The NEST symbol was off to the left of the print.

"Optional armor," Ratchet said proudly.

"So that he will always live in me," Optimus added. "That was his choice, and I honor it."

Stepping closer, I rested my hand on the metal. It was cold. He was dead – I should have expected that, but the Autobots were always warm to the touch. "Does he…it get warmer when you're hauling it?" I asked, looking up at the words: Doom Bringer. _I'm a mercenary doom-bringer. What planet are we on? Terrible name for a planet. May as well call it Dirt. Planet Dirt._ I smiled sadly at the memory.

"Yes," Optimus answered. "My spark-energy flows into it when it's hooked up, making the armor part of me."

I nodded. I was positive Jetfire would be very happy about this, if he knew. The mercenary doom-bringer lived on. I smiled despite myself, imagining his spirit roaring defiance at Decepticons the next time Optimus used his parts. "Okay, Ratchet, you're off the hook. But keep me posted."

"Agreed."

Turning to my thoroughly-confused handler, I said, "We probably need to get to the meeting, huh."

His eyes darting once to Optimus, he answered me, "Yes sir."

It wasn't until we were getting off the lift four floors up that I realized I hadn't seen Arcee with the guys. They'd been in lockdown, so where was she? Not getting into trouble, I hoped.

…

The meeting with NATO was surprisingly productive. People talked about the attacks – the death toll had cleared ten thousand – and asked me how I could stand to associate with the Autobots. But this time, they appeared to be listening when I explained how Optimus had saved my life. I didn't tell them about him dying and coming back because I wasn't sure if all that made it into their briefing materials, but I did play up Jetfire's sacrifice and Optimus flying off to singlehandedly battle both Megatron and the Fallen. But as I said the word 'singlehanded,' I realized Optimus had Jetfire helping him then. In every battle where Optimus used the trailer/armor, Jetfire would be present in him, helping a living Prime battle 'cons. Optimus wouldn't be fighting alone – ever. It was almost…I don't know, poetic or beautiful, and I hoped the people around me saw it that way, too.

The meeting dragged on for three hours, and it probably would have gone longer if we didn't have to break for my dinner with the President. People kept saying it, but I couldn't quite wrap my mind around it: me and the President, sitting down to talk. It was one of those things where I'd have to see it to believe it, and even then I'd probably think it was a dream.

I stepped out to use the bathroom, and when I got back, Lennox was the only officer left in the room. Some audio-visual people were setting up a laptop with the Presidential seal on the screen and a webcam mounted on top. Across the table from it, a place setting had already been laid out for me. The major was scowling at the laptop.

"What?" I whispered. I mean, this was President _Obama_.

"I voted for him, but I wouldn't again." His eyes were almost burning in intensity when he looked down at me. "If they'd found you, he…" Will tipped his chin toward the Presidential seal, "…would have turned you over to the Decepticons. That's what Galloway said, anyway. I get sick to my stomach every time I think about it."

I swallowed hard, realizing I'd be sitting down to dinner with not only the coolest president ever but also someone who was apparently willing to throw me to the wolves. That kind of put a different angle on it. I'd known that's why everyone was looking for me – that's why we'd been running in the first place – but it was different to look someone in the eyes who _could_ and _would_ have tried to buy peace with my life. I couldn't see any way to _not_ take it personally. Would he apologize for that? Or would he assume I didn't know what Lennox knew and pretend he was just an important person sitting down to eat with an accidental celebrity? Pretend that he hadn't been willing to sell me to the Decepticons? It was just…creepy.

The screen flickered, and a little 60-second countdown began. Someone ushered Lennox from the room. I felt like we were on a movie set or something as someone escorted me to my place at the table and then lined up the camera for the satellite link so the President could see me, too. My palms began to sweat and my stomach churned in nervousness. I'd be lucky if I ate a single bite. I pulled up my chair and fidgeted with my napkin as I watched the countdown.

Something was bothering me about Lennox's hostility, though – something I just couldn't shake. What else could the President have done, honestly? Sent a defiant message to the Decepticons? That would have ended in more people dying. Called up the Autobots? They would have lost without Optimus, though he had no way of knowing that. What were his options back then? I mean, I'd almost turned _myself_ in, even knowing what Megatron had in store for me. How could I blame him, really?

Except it was my life to sacrifice, not his. That was the difference between him and Optimus.

People died in wars, though. Optimus had sacrificed his planet, had sacrificed the All Spark. It was just something that a leader had to face, sooner or later. Whether it was his life or mine, the President had an obligation to the whole world to stop the Decepticons, just like I'd had.

My hands froze on my napkin as the countdown hit thirteen seconds. Did I _really_ just compare myself to the President?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumblebee's greeting to Sam is from an old jingle for Kellogg's Corn Flakes.


	6. Knower

I met Optimus out on the flight deck again that night. As before, he was laying down, looking up at the stars, and I wondered why he found them so interesting. After all, he'd lived among them. When I was close enough for conversation, I said, "Hi."

"Hello, Sam," he greeted me, sitting up and holding out his hand. "How was dinner with your president?"

I climbed aboard and sat back against his fingers. "Mind-blowing, but good. He asked how I was recuperating and we chatted about Giza and you guys. He wanted to know all your names and what I thought of you and for the record, I spoke highly of you all – even Skids and Mudflap, but that took a little more effort. Then we talked basketball over dessert." He was the first person I'd spoken with who hadn't asked if I was creeped out by the Autobots.

He nodded his head in approval. "I thank you again, Sam. I doubt you can fully appreciate how much you do for us."

I sighed, frowning. "I don't know why you keep saying things like that. If I had done this when you first asked me, you wouldn't have been killed to begin with. And, really, I suck at it. The President was nice about it, but – come on! – I stood him up this morning. Admiral Black is a stubborn jackass, and the UN Security Council can't figure out the difference between you guys and Decepticons. I'm just banging my head against the wall, and sometimes that's literally."

"You convinced Admiral Black to release us from lockdown," he pointed out. "And Major Lennox tells me the meeting with NATO went well. He said you told our story with enthusiasm."

I snorted at the praise. It was almost as bad as giving me an 'A' for effort.

"From what he said, it was obvious you felt passionately about what you were saying. That gave your words power. I would not have been able to set your President at ease by talking about basketball. You stand as an intersection between our worlds, boy. You can teach them how to understand us as no one else can. You will lead into friendship with us any who will follow, and though it seems unlikely now, there are many who will follow you."

I looked up into his blue optics, remembering again my thoughts about leadership before talking with the President. (It still blew my mind to think about it!) "But here's the thing…I don't know _how_ to be a leader. Not like you."

He chuckled. "I hope you will become a far better leader than I am."

I choked on the thought. "Is that even possible?"

"Very," he assured me. "I flounder sometimes. And I make many mistakes – some in ignorance, some in poor choices."

"But you never would have turned me over to Megatron," I said. "You never would have tried to buy peace with my life."

He cocked his head to the side, curious about where I was going with this one. "No. No sooner than you would do the same to me."

"But…what if it wasn't me? What if it was some stranger off the street Megatron was holding captive in that warehouse?"

"Boy, you _were_ a stranger off the street once. And you are correct that I would have fought him, partly because he is Megatron but mostly because I would not see another sentient being suffer."

"But have you ever _had_ to sacrifice someone who wasn't willing? You had Ratchet rebuild Jetfire into armor for you because you wanted to honor his choice. But did you ever have to sacrifice someone who had no choice?"

He bowed his head, crumpling under the weight of the question. I wanted to take it back, wanted to tell him to forget it, but he was asking me to be a Prime. I _needed_ to know these things.

"Yes." Pain wrung the word from him. "Yes, I have. I am not a perfect leader. Far from it." He sighed deeply, and I felt his sorrow in my own heart. "Sparklings, Sam. _Children_. Their creators were neutrals. We could have fought for their defense, and we did, but I had to see to my warriors first. We had to _survive_ if we wanted to give anyone else a chance to defy the Decepticons. When a city was overrun, we retreated and the Decepticons killed every last neutral sparkling and femme." Lifting his head to meet my eyes again, he said, "Innocents sacrificed at my command who had _no_ choice.

"Perhaps I have gone to the other extreme," he continued, bowing his head, the anguish still aching in his voice. "I let Sector Seven capture Bumblebee. We could have intervened – Jazz and the others wanted to – but you are all children, Sam. Cruel, selfish children sometimes, but children nonetheless. I could not bring myself to harm them, even in Bumblebee's defense. And I could not risk harm befalling _you_. We would not be able to surprise them like we did the first time. Even if you were not accidentally harmed, it was likely that your fellow humans would harm you rather than let us take you. We could not rescue you, and I sacrificed Bumblebee." He sighed. "Faithful, fearless Bumblebee. At the time, I feared I would never see him alive again."

I didn't know what to say to that. If he were Mikaela or my mom – or even my dad, maybe – I'd have hugged him. Instead, I just stared, wishing I knew what to do. How _do_ you comfort an Autobot? Finally, I said, "He forgave you."

"Thank you, Sam. But no." Optimus lifted his gaze to mine. "He never blamed me to begin with. I am fortunate to still count him a friend after all he has endured for me, but his love for me has only grown."

I half-smiled thinking about how happy 'Bee was to see me this afternoon, even though I'd left him behind when I went to college. I had to get down there again tomorrow morning. "I know what you mean. Bumblebee is…something else."

"Indeed." Optimus paused for a moment, letting me absorb what he'd said. Eventually he asked, "Are you satisfied with my answer?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Because I have a question of my own for you, boy."

"Go ahead. Shoot. Um…not literally."

He shook his head at me in amusement before sobering. "Ratchet told me you want him to remove the alloy." His voice was grave, and I again felt that guilt I didn't understand.

I shrugged it off. "Yeah. It's foreign stuff to my body. Who knows what damage it might do?"

"I see." He leaned closer, peering into my eyes. "Is it only concern for your physical safety that prompted this?"

"Sure," I lied. "Why else would I want to have Ratchet put my blood through a strainer?"

He sighed, and I wasn't sure if it was because of my fib or my sarcasm.

"So what details are we going to hammer out tonight?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. "Has anyone told you what my occupation was before the War?"

I blinked once, surprised by just how far he was willing to change the subject. "No."

"Megatron and I jointly ruled Cybertron. He was charged with the defense of the All Spark, the planet, and its people and culture. I was charged with the conservation of these things. This involved many roles for me, from physicist to archeologist to art critic."

I smiled a little at the humor in his voice.

"The Dynasty of the Primes," he continued, "was one of our greatest cultural mysteries. The only complete record of our people was contained in the All Spark, but it was…sacred to us. Only Primes were allowed to access the histories, and no one knew until a few days ago that I was an actual Prime."

"But…you introduced yourself as Optimus Prime. You've known for years."

"Because a poet's name is Alexander Pope, it does not mean he is the Pope. So it was with me. We didn't know any Primes survived, and so no one dared to access the records of the All Spark. Ratchet gave me the tongue-in-cheek name of Prime because several shards at an archeological dig bore the same glyph that I did." He pointed to a symbol on the side of his head. "The dig was traditionally associated with the Dynasty of the Primes, but the writing was not one we could read."

"The Language of the Primes," I said.

He nodded. "Yes. So finding out I'm genuinely a Prime is a shock for me, too."

I chuckled softly.

Optimus looked up at the stars. "If only we had known then. I would have accessed the histories in the All Spark. We would have known who The Fallen was and would have handled his sarcophagus differently. And I would definitely have prevented Megatron from ever touching it." Meeting my gaze again, he said, "Countless lives – Cybertonian and now human – were lost because _we didn't know_."

The regret in his voice filled my chest, echoing the earlier sorrow. "You can't change the past, Optimus," I said.

"No. But the right knowledge can change the future. The knowledge we now have about our past is very important, boy. I want to share it with all the Autobots – not just the ones on Earth."

I finally realized what he was driving at. "You want to send another transmission."

"Yes. But it is not my story alone to tell."

Yeah, it was pretty impossible to explain what had happened without bringing me into it. "You want to tell them about me. About…what you think I am."

"It is knowledge about the Primes," he said earnestly. "Knowledge that is important, that might even be critical to our race's survival. But it is knowledge I will not share without your consent."

I rubbed my forehead wearily. "I don't know if I believe it myself, Optimus. I'm not ready for every new arrival to the planet to start calling me Prime and kissing my feet. And what about the Decepticons? Won't they intercept the transmission, too?"

"Yes, there is a good possibility they will also learn the truth. But I doubt it would make you more of a target than you already are."

Remembering how it felt when the whole world was scrambling to find me, I hoped that he was right. Which brought up another concern. "And I'm _really_ not ready for humans to start freaking out about me being a Prime, either."

"Agreed. That revelation can wait at least until your world accepts us. But it might be wise to let Mikaela know. Being a Prime is hereditary and any offspring…"

"Gah!" I scrubbed my face with my hands once before looking up at him again. "What is it with you guys and commenting on my sex life?" As if Mikaela hadn't gone through enough for me. She was right – no one else could be my girlfriend – and what would happen if she freaked out about this? How could a girl _not_ freak out to learn that any baby she had would be a _Prime_?

"I am sorry, Sam."

"I know. I know, Optimus. It's just…"

"A lot to take in."

I smiled to hear him use my own words from last night, and I felt a lot calmer knowing he understood. "Yeah."

He waited patiently as I tried to wrap my mind around what he'd told me tonight.

Being a Prime wasn't just big expectations, it was big consequences. Lives would hang on my decisions. And he still was convinced I was a Prime. That I was somehow like _him_. He even believed that I might be able to do it better.

Not only did he think I was a Prime, but he wanted to broadcast this to Decepticon and Autobot alike. He was right about one thing, though. The Autobots needed to know that he was a real Prime, because having a real Prime on your side was a game-changer. I knew this from personal experience.

And this was new to him, too. That was comforting somehow. The mech who ruled a planet and who led the Autobots in war was a little shaken to learn he was a real Prime. Even assuming I was also one, which I wasn't, I had every right to take this slowly.

Me and Mikaela having a baby…I didn't even want to think about that yet. Maybe not ever.

He was right that tonight's was an easier conversation than last night's. Even last night's conversation didn't seem quite so bad. In the back of my mind, I'd come to accept that the Autobots, at least, saw me as a Prime. They were wrong, but I could accept that they saw me that way.

"Any other bombs you want to drop before I pop my pills for the night?" I finally asked him, looking up again.

"Are you familiar with Autobot brother-bonds?"

I sighed. I'd been mostly joking about the bomb thing. "Is it some kind of oath or something?"

"No," he said solemnly. "Among Cybertronians, bonds can be formed between sparks. This occurs naturally in twins, though mates can also choose to enter into spark-bonds."

"Okay…?"

"The scientific explanation is complicated, but the end result is a mental and emotional connection. The feelings and thoughts that can be shared vary depending on how strong the bond is, how close in proximity the individuals are, how much the individuals wish to share or receive, et cetera."

I'd never, in my life, heard someone actually say 'et cetera' in conversation. I don't know why that was such a shock, especially considering what else he was saying, but it was. Maybe that was it – maybe I was going into shock.

"Sam, I believe that you and I now share a brother-bond."

I finally focused again on what he was saying. "You can read my mind?" Oh crap!

"No, the bond isn't anywhere near strong enough for that."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Even in recharge," he explained, "I haven't perceived any thoughts that weren't mine. But occasionally I sense what I believe are your feelings. Over the last several days, did you perceive anything unusual?"

Yeah, all kinds of disturbing things, but not in terms of hearing voices or having feelings that weren't my own. "I don't know. I don't really remember anything in particular." He slumped ever so slightly and so I added, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I only wanted you to be aware of the possibility. I doubted you were familiar with the concept of brother-bonds."

"Sure. Thanks for letting me know," so I'll be sure to appreciate my narcotics again tonight, I thought. And then I thanked my lucky stars that he apparently couldn't hear my mental commentary. "If you don't mind, though, I think I'm done for the night. Save any more bombs for tomorrow, okay?"

I could hear the humor in his voice. "I have no more bombs for you, boy. Will you meet with me again tomorrow night?" I nodded, and returning me to the flight deck, he said, "Sleep well."

"You too, Optimus."


	7. Friend

Mikaela was awake before I was again, but at least the clock read 0830 hours instead of almost ten. "Morning, beautiful."

Looking up from reading on her bunk, she grinned. "Morning, famous."

"You know," I said, sitting up. "I could get used to this, having you here when I wake up."

"Me, too," she said softly.

I stood and stretched, and she carefully wrapped her arms around my sore ribs, resting her head against my chest. "I'll never take the sound of your heartbeat for granted again."

I kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she answered, a smile in her voice. "And as much as I'd love to take the next hour showing you just how much, you've already got a line at your door."

I kissed her – one slow, tender kiss. "If I have to march up to Communications again, I'm going to get some time with you today."

She smiled and lightly traced the still-healing scrape on my cheek. "Sounds good." Then, sighing, she stepped away. "Better see the guy who's waiting."

"Right." Choosing some clean clothes (a uniform kindly provided by the Navy), I picked up a bag of toiletries and headed off to the showers. Sure enough, there was a man standing at attention outside my door. I was surprised that he looked vaguely familiar. Considering the number of faces I'd seen in the last few days, it was impressive that I could remember anyone at all.

"Hey," I greeted him. It took me a second to place him, and then I remembered that he was the one who accompanied me to the Autobot cargo bay yesterday. Come to think of it, he was also the one who'd taken me to see the people in Communications.

"Sir," he acknowledged crisply. "Captain Wilder has assigned me as your personal aide. He also asked me to inform you that you now owe him lunch."

I chuckled. "If Mikaela Baines can join us, I'm on for today. But tell the people in Communications that I still get a casual meal with my family and friends."

"Yes sir! Any preference which one, sir?"

"Better make it dinner. When's our first appointment today?"

"0930 hours. Several Chinese leaders want to meet with you."

I sighed. Of course Lennox was right about that. "Right. Now if you excuse me, I reek. I'll be back in about ten minutes."

Twenty minutes later, I was walking with my aide toward the lift that went to the Autobot bay (after a brief detour through the mess hall for some granola bars – I didn't want to face Ratchet's wrath about skipping breakfast). I wanted to see Bumblebee, and I needed to get my pills from Ratchet so he wouldn't be tempted to use his holoform today. "Sorry," I said to the man beside me, "but I didn't catch your name."

"Ensign Mohammad al-Sharif."

I glanced at him sidelong. Now that he mentioned it, he did have kind of a Mediterranean look to him, but I never would have guessed he was Muslim without the name. No accent, just dark hair and eyes. Huh. "And we didn't scare you off yesterday?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" he asked as he put his arm out to hold open the lift door for me.

"Always."

He entered the elevator behind me, pressed the button for the cargo bay level, and then stood at ease. "The Autobots are very intimidating, I won't deny it. But the mosque I worship at was vandalized in the aftermath of the September 11th attacks. Like your Autobots, I know what it is like to be misunderstood, to be judged guilty by association just for being what I am."

Wow. That was…unexpected. I stared at him, and he added, "I volunteered for this position because I have fought against prejudice before, and I want to help."

I was _floored_. Until now, I felt like I _was_ waging a one-man battle for the Autobots. Optimus' words from last night echoed in my mind: _there are many who will follow you_. WOW!

Feeling like I should say _something_ , I answered, "Thank you."

He tipped his head in acknowledgement and stood a little straighter. "My pleasure, sir."

The elevator came to a stop, and my aide held his hand out to keep the door open for me again. Still…a little thunderstruck, I stepped into the Autobot bay, al-Sharif following me.

Bumblebee was standing in the doorway of the med bay, everything about his stance just…sad again. He turned his head when he heard us enter, though, and perked up. Hurrying over, he crouched down. With his half-healed voice, he cheerfully mumbled "Good morning."

"Morning, 'Bee. As ordered, I'm here for my meds. Oh, and Bumblebee, this is Ensign Mohammed al-Sharif. Ensign, meet Bumblebee. 'Bee's been my personal guardian for the last two years. And 'Bee, Mohammed is my personal aide now, so if you guys need to find me and my cell's turned off or whatever, he's your man."

"It's about time your species realized you needed some extra help," Ratchet grumbled from his med bay. "Now get your skidplate in here."

Grinning, I headed toward him, al-Sharif following closely. Ratchet flipped the tarp to cover the table again and retracted the tool he'd been using. He had my pills for the day already bagged and labeled. Just ibuprofen, I was relieved to see.

"If you don't come down here before you turn in for the night, I'll send your Lortab with Optimus."

"Thanks. Oh, and Ratchet, this is Ensign al-Sharif."

"Yes, I heard," he said, crouching down to look my aide in the eyes. "And I expect you to remind him to take his medication and to eat. It is ridiculous the way your people have been treating him."

Pale but steady, al-Sharif nodded his head and answered, "Yes sir."

"Good man. Now go away. I've got work to do."

"He's the warm, fuzzy type," I sniggered as we left the med bay.

Optimus was standing in the middle of the cargo bay, waiting for us. "I just received word that the NATO representatives wish to speak with me this afternoon. They have some questions for me about the Solar Harvester. Thank you, Sam."

"I didn't do anything."

"You opened their minds," he corrected. "This is the first time that human leaders outside of NEST's chain of command have wanted to communicate with us directly. I understand you will be at the meeting, too, so I will see you then."

I bobbed my head in answer and then glanced at Bumblebee, who was still hovering nearby. To al-Sharif, I said, "How long until the meeting?"

He nervously shifted his feet but answered, "We can spend another five minutes here."

"Okay. Just sit tight for a few minutes, then. I'll be right back." Walking over to Bumblebee, I said, "Can we talk?"

He transformed and popped open the driver's side door, and I climbed in. Darkening the tint on his windows, he drove us to an out-of-the-way corner and killed the engine. " _Say what you need to say_ ," the radio sang.

I took a deep breath. Even though I knew the answer, I had to ask. "You think I'm a Prime?"

A preacher's voice boldly declared through the speakers, "I am a _witness_! Hallelujah!"

I dropped my head to the steering wheel. "How is it even possible?" I murmured.

He didn't give me an answer, probably because he didn't have one.

"Even if you're right," I said softly, "even if having the particles in my blood makes me a Prime, I can't do it. I'm not…" My voice trailed off as I tried to find the right words.

" _I'm only a man in a funny red sheet, looking for special things inside of me_."

I sighed in relief that he understood. He always saw right to the heart of what I was feeling. "That's right. I'm not Superman."

The sound bite of a woman's voice demanded, "You think I don't know that?"

I frowned. "It's worse than thinking I'm Superman. You think I'm a Prime."

The preacher repeated, "I am a _witness_! Hallelujah!" followed by a man's voice saying, "It doesn't matter what I think."

Because the evidence spoke for itself – Optimus was alive because I used the Matrix that only a Prime could use. That's what I kept coming back to, and it was like coming to a brick wall. There was no way I could get beyond it, even to find out what future laid on the other side. Finally, I said, "I don't know how to do what you guys want me to do."

Some commercial voiceover said, "You have to try it to believe it."

I didn't want to believe it, that was the problem. Sitting up again, I said, "I _wanted_ to try a normal life before all this, and I still do."

" _Even heroes have the right to dream_ ," the radio sang.

I half-smiled. "But it's _just_ a dream, Bumblebee, because if I'm an ambassador for the Autobots like Optimus wants me to be, it's going to be a full-time job."

A country singer crooned, " _It won't be like this for long_ ," and then a chipper woman said in a TV-ad voice, "…a new career with flexible schedules and _great_ benefits."

I actually laughed this time. "Benefits like a shiny new yellow Camaro every year?"

The seat under me moved in a slight shrug, but the frame vibrated with laughter, too. I rested my hand on the dash, taking comfort in the fact that we could still laugh together. The world hadn't changed that much.

As the humor drained away, though, I said, "But what if I fail? I'm not even sure what it is exactly that you want me to do." I hadn't meant to actually speak the words out loud, but as I said them, I realized that was the real problem.

He had to use three different clips to cobble his answer together. "You can only fail us by not trying."

I let the truth of his words sink in. Back in the cemetery, Optimus hadn't asked me to change anyone's mind, just to remind them that I, at least, trusted the Autobots. "But can't I be an ambassador without being a Prime?"

" _I don't understand you_ ," he sang.

"Me neither, 'Bee. I don't understand me, either."

I received a text from my aide, giving me a one-minute warning. "Gotta go. But thanks for letting me talk at you."

'Bee zipped back over to where al-Sharif was talking to Ironhide and opened my door for me, quoting, "Love ya, man."

I patted his roof as I got out. "Love ya, too." Then I sighed at Ironhide while Bumblebee transformed behind me. "Is it remotely possible for you introduce yourself without bringing your cannons into it?"

The big, black Autobot harrumphed at me and glanced lovingly at the cannon on his left arm. "I lost one of them in that battle. I have every right to show off Ratchet's impressive repair work."

"Uh-huh. Well, now that you've terrorized my aide, we'll be going. See you tonight."

As much as I'd prefer to stay with them and just hang out... I sighed and headed back to the lift. Al-Sharif sighed with relief when the elevator doors closed, cutting off sight of the Autobot bay. I glanced at him curiously. "Permission to speak freely?"

With a flicker of a smile, he said, "Always."

"What do you think of them? I mean, you've sat on their side of the fence before, but what do you think of them _personally_."

He hesitated for a moment. "Are you a spiritual man, Mr. Witwicky?"

"Not until recently," I answered. Though it wasn't exactly what you'd call traditional religion, I thought with a grimace.

"To be perfectly honest, they remind me a little of djinn – powerful creatures that conceal themselves from humanity and each one a unique creation."

"Djinn?"

He tossed me a self-depreciating smile. "Genies in English, though the word doesn't really convey the right meaning."

I had a mental image of the Genie from _Aladdin_. "Not quite following you."

He sighed at my ignorance. "They are merely legends in some people's minds. Traditionally, though, djinn are powerful, frightening creatures. Like men and angels, they have free will. Some use their supernatural abilities to help mankind, while others are devils. But always they are terrifying to human eyes. Ironhide and Optimus especially remind me of djinn."

I chuckled. "Okay, yeah, I can see that."

"I don't know how you can walk so casually among them," he added.

"It's not like they'd step on me or anything."

He half-smiled. "They are alien, other. Whether they're machines or djinn, they are not human. I understand that these Autobots are friends to humanity, but I will never spend a minute near them without feeling either in awe or terror."

I blinked in surprise, trying to remember a time when I'd been afraid of them. Bumblebee…I'd called him Satan's Camaro. For that one day, I'd been afraid, mostly because he was so obviously after me specifically. But when I saw him fight Barricade for us, saw what he could have done to me and didn't…. Seeing him in action had only made me feel safe. Same thing with Optimus and the others. Terrifying to behold, but comforting once you knew them.

"I guess I've gotten used to them," I said.

Al-Sharif shook his head slightly in disbelief. "You have lived a remarkable life."

The lift door opened, and I chuckled as I stepped out. "That, Ensign, is an understatement."

…

The Chinese military leaders asked many of the same questions the UN Security Council and NATO had – who were these aliens in the cargo hold, how were they connected with the aliens who attacked, what were their combat capabilities. And, of course, how could I stand to be near them. I answered the question as best I could, trying to explain just how I could see them as my friends.

One grizzled general asked Major Lennox if these were the same aliens who had fought in Shanghai, and he confirmed that they were.

"There are two new ones listed here," the general said through a translator. "And one that is omitted. Is it accounted for?"

"Bumblebee had been on assignment elsewhere during the operation in Shanghai," Lennox explained, "and Jolt is a recent arrival to Earth. The missing one is Arcee, and…she died at Giza."

WHAT? I glanced at Lennox, but he was still looking at the general on the video screen.

I couldn't pay much attention to the rest of the meeting. Why hadn't anyone told me? I'd known she was a tripartite 'bot – that the three parts of her were controlled by a single mind. Two of her components had been destroyed, but I distinctly remembered the third one was still online when we ran. How did she die?

We broke for lunch a little before one o'clock, and I pulled Lennox aside. "What happened to Arcee? Her blue component was still alive."

He frowned, his eyes hard. "She didn't make it out ahead of the carpet bombing."

My heart sank and I looked up at the ceiling. "They didn't say anything."

"They didn't want you to know yet. Optimus wanted to be the one to tell you, but he said the time wasn't right. Her death is need-to-know. I haven't even told my wife or Mikaela yet, and Sarah was almost as close to Arcee as I am to Ironhide. Many of my superiors don't know, but Optimus authorized me to tell if anyone asked me point blank. He didn't want to ask me to lie for him."

So that's why she hadn't been with the rest of the Autobots. The gutsy femme who'd run into the heart of the battle for me – who charged a 'con after it had blown off the head of one of her components – was dead. Ironhide got his cannon back and Jetfire would live on in Optimus, but Arcee…was extinguished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pulling from the Botosphere fanon for some of the info about Arcee in this and future chapters. We tweaked the timeline in our little 'verse so that Arcee and the other new Autobots arrived on Earth almost a year before Shanghai. The femme has lived on Diego Garcia long enough to become friends with Sarah Lennox and, to a lesser extent, Mikaela. (And yes, that's a shameless plug for my fic Introductions: Sarah Lennox.) :) Information about her and the other Autobots' past on Cybertron comes from IDW's Transformers: Defiance.
> 
> Bumblebee's song clips:  
> "Say What You Need to Say" by John Mayer  
> "Superman" by Five For Fighting  
> "It Won't Be Like This for Long" by Darius Rucker  
> "Fingertips" by They Might Be Giants


	8. Brother

Lunch with Captain Wilder and his officers wasn't as bad as I was afraid it would be – for one thing, Simmons was there and he kind of upstaged me. For another, with Admiral Black there, we didn't talk about the Autobots much, which I was grateful for. I wasn't sure if I could be appropriately upbeat about them when I was still reeling from the news about Arcee.

Captain Wilder was very interested in my little band of civilians who had saved the world. Apparently, Simmons had randomly radioed him in the middle of the battle and told him to use a classified weapon to destroy 'the mother of all non-biologicals.' Wilder wanted to know how I knew everyone and how we all got involved. It was a relatively pleasant conversation, and Mikaela's fingers discreetly drew circles on my knee the whole time.

When our lunch hour was up, though, I had to kiss Mikaela good-bye and go on to _yet another_ meeting. Maybe that would be my first nightmare after I stopped taking the Lortab – walking from meeting to meeting to meeting in hell.

At least Optimus would be at this one. Admiral Black, al-Sharif, and I all trooped down to the Autobot cargo bay where they had a twenty-foot tall platform set up so we could all see eye-to-eye. Kind of. Lennox was already there, talking with Optimus.

"Admiral, Mr. Witwicky," he acknowledged as we joined him on the platform. It was incredibly weird to be called 'Mr. Witwicky' by the man who had once grabbed me by the front of my shirt and yelled in my face 'You're a soldier now!' He directed us to two desks and then took a seat himself. Optimus stood off to the right. We could see him, but he was out of the camera's line of sight.

A live video feed from NATO headquarters was projected onto a large screen in front of us. After some brief introductions and a recap of the basic timeline, the question and answer session began.

The US representative started them off. "For how long has your species been visiting our planet?"

Optimus answered, "Other than The Fallen's initial visit 19,000 years ago, our visits have been accidental and not directed toward any objective regarding Earth or its inhabitants. A device called the All Spark crash-landed here ten thousand years ago. The Decepticon leader Megatron pursued it and also crash-landed on Earth approximately 2,000 years ago. One of our scouts landed in 2005, also seeking the All Spark. I and my advance team landed in 2007 and the rest has been thoroughly documented by NEST. I know of no other points of contact between our worlds."

The French representative spoke up next. "What about this Solar Harvester? Obviously it wasn't completely destroyed. How much risk does it continue to pose?"

"Any risk is negligible. As a race, we no longer have the knowledge or facilities to manufacture repair parts. Even if someone were able to repair the device, it still cannot be activated without its key."

"The key being the Matrix of Leadership?"

Like Lennox and Black, I was expectantly looking at Optimus, and I felt an impulse to lie that grew with every passing second. But the question wasn't directed to me…I sat up a little straighter in shock. Was _Optimus_ the one who was tempted to lie? Was this the brother-bond he had talked about?

"Yes, the Matrix is also the key."

I felt a mingled relief and annoyance that didn't make any sense if it was coming from _me_.

"So where is it now?"

Again the guilt, the temptation to lie. I couldn't believe I was feeling this!

"It was in the Solar Harvester when I destroyed it," Optimus evenly answered, but I felt the grinding weight of conflict in each word he spoke. "The night after the battle, I climbed to the top of the pyramid to inspect the Harvester and ensure it would never be able to fire. I found the Matrix in the wreckage and kept it for sentimental reasons."

He actually did it this time – told a lie. _Optimus_ was _lying_! The guilt tore at him, but he was an excellent liar. If I didn't have direct access to what was going on in his spark, I would never have guessed. But what was the lie? That the Matrix was destroyed? Something that could turn into dust and back wouldn't have been destroyed by that little explosion at the top of the pyramid. He hadn't actually said that it was broken, but he'd implied it.

The French admiral raised an eyebrow. "Sentimental reasons?"

"The Matrix has a rich cultural significance," I said, coming to Optimus' rescue. I wasn't as good a liar, but I didn't agonize over lying the way he did. He wanted them to think that he had a broken Matrix, so I helped him out. "Even damaged, they'd want to keep it for the same reason we keep the Liberty Bell. Optimus has a personal and professional interest in his race's historical artifacts."

"Really."

Optimus glanced at me, curiosity that was probably his swelling in my chest. I focused on feeling sly and just a touch smug. His amusement flowed into me in answer. He knew that I knew, both about the brother-bond and the lie. "I was an archeologist before the War," he said. "Among other things."

"Huh," the US representative grinned. "Leader of the Autobots, aka Indiana Jones."

Still pleased by my discovery, Optimus casually answered, "Something like that."

"Any other historical artifacts that we should know about?"

"None that have tactical value here on Earth."

"Good enough." The US representative turned to the others. "Next question."

"Major Lennox," the Greek representative said, "in your professional opinion, does the Matrix have any offensive capabilities or potential?"

He'd obviously been asked this one before. "I can't think of any. From what I understand, even reviving Optimus was a use beyond its original purpose and design."

A British general asked, "I have a few questions for Mr. Witwicky. First, you say you found the Matrix in a hidden room in Petra. How did you find this hidden room?"

I cleared my throat. "The Autobot twins, Skids and Mudflap, detected it. Bumblebee broke through the façade into the room itself."

"And that room is the Tomb of the Primes?"

"Yes sir."

"Were there any other items of interest there?"

Just the bodies of six powerful, compassionate beings who saved the planet at the cost of their own lives. Nothing _important_ , not to these guys. Ugh! We humans were so _ungrateful_ sometimes! Echoing Optimus, I said, "Nothing of tactical value."

He nodded once. "Also, you used the Matrix to reactivate Optimus. How did you know to do that?"

And suddenly I was the one feeling a compulsion to lie. I didn't know how to explain meeting the Primes without sounding crazy, and it wasn't something I wanted to talk about with just anyone. It was special. Thinking back to my conversation with al-Sharif, maybe 'sacred' was a better word for it. Regardless, it was definitely _not_ something I wanted to discuss with suspicious strangers.

"Jetfire explained it," Optimus said, coming to _my_ rescue and sending some calm my way (I assumed it was his anyway, since the calm felt kind of…unnatural). "He translated the riddle that led to the Matrix and told Sam about the power it contained."

It was true, every single word. And yet a lie. But Optimus didn't feel badly about this one.

"And how would you know that?" Admiral Black demanded.

"My lieutenant Bumblebee briefed me about what happened to him and Sam in my…absence."

"Isn't he the mute?" Black cut in again.

"Not to us," Optimus answered with great dignity, and I could feel his almost-paternal defensiveness.

Or maybe it was mine. I realized this was why I hadn't recognized the bond before – apparently we were often in synch. It took something as jarring as him lying to make me sit up and take notice.

His chin jutted out ever so slightly. "A computer with broken speakers can still transmit data through other means. If a mere machine has those capabilities, you can be sure Bumblebee can and does communicate with us."

I smiled to hear him make a distinction between the Autobots and human-built machines to Black's face.

The general who'd asked the question glared once at Admiral Black and then nodded, accepting Optimus' answer.

The Norwegian representative asked, "You say the Solar Harvester cannot be activated without its key, but cannot a new key be made?"

"No," Optimus answered. "The energy contained in the Matrix is unique. There was only one created, and the means for us to make another one does not exist."

I wondered if anyone else noticed how oddly he worded the answer or if his evasiveness was only apparent to someone who could sense it first-hand.

The representative from Spain spoke up. "I'm curious about The Fallen's telekinesis."

Optimus patiently answered, "What do you wish to know?" But I thought I detected just a hint of exasperation. I sighed on his behalf.

The meeting went on, and I tried to stay focused. It wasn't easy, not when I was second guessing my every emotion, trying to figure out if it was Optimus' or mine. When it was something we both felt the same about, I couldn't sense him at all. Or maybe I really _couldn't_ sense him then, and I just assumed we felt the same way? It was a mess, but at the same time, it was incredibly cool.

I was an only child, and I'll admit that I'd often wanted a brother or sister when I was growing up. There were two girls – sisters – I knew who could always finish each others' sentences. I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be that close to someone. I was almost that close to Bumblebee, and maybe even closer because I could finish sentences he couldn't speak.

This connection I had with Optimus was a step above even that. I could _feel_ what he felt. Even in the short time I'd recognized our brother-bond, we had used it to watch each others' backs. It was one thing to say we were blood-brothers; it was a different thing entirely to _feel_ like brothers.

A sharp pang of grief struck my soul, and I focused again on what everyone else was saying.

"We all sustained damage," Optimus answered somebody's question.

"But did any of your Autobots die?" It was the admiral from Italy who asked the question. "The reports were unclear on this point."

I braced myself, expecting the intense grief to hit me again, but it didn't. Instead I felt nothing. Completely and totally empty.

"Two. Two of my warriors were offlined."

Jetfire and Arcee. I could hear the pain in his words, but I couldn't feel it at all. He'd closed me out of his sorrow. How did he do that? How did he know _how_ to? I sighed. I needed to learn more about this brother-bond thing.

"Our condolences," the British representative said, and either he was a good liar or he actually meant it. Either way, the words were appreciated.

The meeting moved on. I searched my heart, trying to find Optimus again. Could he permanently shut me out? I hoped not. As weird as it was, this connection was like…like a permanent hug – always close, always honest, always there for each other. Ten minutes of recognizing the bond, and I was already hooked. Finally catching his optics, I gave him a pleading look. Nodding slightly, he looked away and I felt his emotional weariness. This meeting was hard on his spark.

The Portuguese admiral's question caught my attention, again. "One report states that the Matrix was a sock full of dust, and yet others have described it as long, metallic, and stylized. One person even described it as artistic. Can you explain the discrepancy?"

Like he did whenever questions were about the Matrix specifically, Optimus felt uncomfortable. "The only Matrix I saw was the metallic one described."

"Can we see it?"

Optimus' emotional reaction to the question was so intense that I blurted out, "No."

Everyone, including the Autobot, looked at me. "I'll take some photographs for you and make whatever measurements or readings you want, but the Matrix isn't for public display."

"Why not?" the German representative asked.

"It is protected under our treaty with the United States," Optimus answered, focusing his emotions on calming me down (definitely coming from him this time, along with a faint overtone of embarrassed apology). "We do not share our technology or weaponry with the human race."

"Except with Mr. Witwicky," the Albanian representative pointed out. "He can handle and photograph the Matrix."

"Sam holds a unique position among us."

_Among_ them. I was one of them – because of the particles in my blood. I suddenly realized that, if Ratchet removed them, then I would not only stop being a Prime but I'd also lose this connection with Optimus. I'd lose my blood-brother. My _only_ brother.

"Why him?" another admiral asked. I was too distracted to notice who he was.

I looked to Optimus, wondering the same thing and on the edge of my seat for an answer. Gentle affection that could only be coming from him filled me. "Because he has proven himself."

…

The meeting ran until almost six o'clock in the evening – four grueling hours. "How long do we have for dinner?" I asked al-Sharif as I stood and stretched.

"We have you scheduled for an hour-long meal with family and friends. Then the British NEST leadership has scheduled an appointment with you, Major Lennox, the JCS, and Admiral Black. There is to be some discussion about the future of Diego Garcia. The only other meeting you have this evening is your regular appointment with Optimus Prime."

"Okay. Tell my folks to start without me. I need a minute with Ratchet."

"Yes sir."

He pulled out his phone, and I glanced once at Optimus. Sensing me, he also glanced up and I felt his steady reassurance telling me I'd done well and that he also appreciated this bond. We'd have time to really talk about this later tonight. Agreeing, I turned and climbed down from the communication platform and crossed the cargo hold to the med bay. Bumblebee was hanging out there, drooping like usual, and it reminded me of the news Lennox had given me.

Seeing me enter, 'Bee perked up a little and crouched down, quoting, "Well hi there."

I recognized it from _Madagascar_ and smiled a little. "Hi, 'Bee." Sobering, I said, "You don't have to put on an act for me anymore. I heard about it in a meeting today. You were good friends with her?" I guessed.

He nodded, dropping his eyes.

"They were the only two survivors of the battle where he first lost his voice," Ratchet said brusquely, flipping the tarp over his workbench and swapping his tools for a hand. "They've been friends since the very beginning of this War. Optimus and I have been friends with her for even longer."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," 'Bee quoted.

I sighed deeply. No, not directly. Like I'd recognized yesterday, people died in battle and it was just something I had to accept. "I only met her that one time on Diego Garcia, but I still feel badly that we've lost her. She'll be missed."

"Thank you," 'Bee mumbled in his own voice, tentatively resting his finger on my shoulder for a brief moment.

"You're welcome. Um…not to be disrespectful or anything, but can I have a minute alone with Ratchet?" I asked Bumblebee.

He nodded, glancing once at Ratchet before leaving us.

The medic crouched down. "Well, Samuel, what do you need?"

"Have you done much more in the way of research?"

He grunted. "Only an hour or so. Like I said, I've been busy."

"Good."

He blinked and then cocked his head curiously.

"I've changed my mind, and I'm glad I didn't waste too much of your time."

"You don't want to remove the particles?" he asked, sounding cautious. But something about the lift in his stance made me think he was very happy.

"I don't; I've decided to leave well enough alone. I just wanted you to know. Thanks anyway for looking into it for me." I shifted awkwardly. "Dinner's waiting, and I've got a long evening ahead of me, so I'd better go."

"Of course." He straightened and reached for a bagged pill. "Your Lortab."

"Right." I pocketed it. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome, Samuel."


	9. Fighter

The meeting between the NEST higher-ups was the easiest by far. I got to mostly listen, taking notes so I could be sure to give an accurate account to Optimus if he asked for one. When a question _was_ directed at me, though, everyone sat up and paid attention to what I had to say. For once, I felt like I was being heard instead of just argued with.

It felt _good._

Maybe it was feeling like I was swimming instead of sinking for once, maybe it was knowing Optimus Prime had my back, maybe it was him rubbing off on me, but I was feeling lucky by the time the meeting ended two hours later. I caught up with Admiral Black in the hallway just outside the conference room. "Could I have a word with you, sir?"

"Another one?" he wearily asked.

I felt a flash of vindictive irritation. As if _he_ had any right to complain about his schedule! Al-Sharif had told me after lunch that Admiral Black's attendance at the NATO meeting was optional. He'd brought that one on himself. I might have let him get away if he'd been polite, but his attitude just cemented my resolve. If it was inconveniencing him, then all the better. "Yes, sir. Several actually."

He threw me an annoyed glance that quickly became appraising. "Fine. In my office in ten."

I stopped, letting him continue up the hallway without me. Al-Sharif gave me a curious look, and I said, "Let Optimus know I'll be late. I'm not sure how long. And you've got the rest of the night off."

He nodded. "Understood." Turning, he went back down the hall, already pulling out his cell phone.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lennox demanded. He was standing close enough that he'd heard the exchange between me and Black.

I looked up at the imposing major and said, "He's going down. Tonight. I don't care if I have to talk his ear off until sun-up, but he _is_ going to listen to what I have to say. He's been nothing but a brick wall for days. World leaders and Black's own subordinates at least entertain the notion that I might know what I'm talking about – it's time he started listening, too."

"Sam, I know you've become a world celebrity –"

"It's not a pride thing," I interrupted him. "Optimus and the others are being treated like criminals. It's not like they can waltz into the mess hall anyway, but they should _not_ be _confined_ to the cargo bay." Meeting his gaze, I asked, "You in?"

He sized me up with a look and then leaned in a little closer. The man was intimidating-tall and he knew it. "As long as this is about Optimus and not your ego, I'm in."

"Good." Because I felt even more confident having Lennox along, even if it was just for moral support. Next to me, he was probably the human the Autobots relied on most.

"Let's grab something portable to eat from the mess hall and then go duke it out with the admiral."

Lennox shook his head at me. "I'm just along for the ride, kid."

I smirked up at him. "And the show. Admit it."

He chuckled. "And the show."

…

Some aide or another ushered us into the office, and Admiral Black sat back in his chair. "You brought reinforcements, I see."

"In case you had any questions I couldn't answer," I said, sitting down in my usual chair. Major Lennox silently took his seat. "I know it's late, so I'll cut right to the chase. I'm requesting VIP-level access for the Autobots."

The admiral looked at me incredulously, as if I'd just cussed him out. "This isn't a pleasure cruise, Mr. Witwicky. I can't have them wandering the flight deck like that big machine seems inclined to do."

"It's the same level of access that I have," I reminded him.

"You are _human_. The other machines hijacked a satellite – they can see him from space when he's out there."

_HIM! HE!_ Admiral Black just used the right pronoun for Optimus!

Unaware of his slip, Black continued, "Flaunting him is only going to get us a reenactment of the _Roosevelt_."

"I understand, sir. I do…"

Did I? I suddenly blinked at the thought. _Did_ I understand where he was coming from, really? I mentally backed up, getting a sense that there might be a chink here somewhere. We always kept coming back to the sunken aircraft carrier. Why? "There were no Autobots on the _Roosevelt_ , sir. They had already been defeated elsewhere, and that gave the Decepticons the opening they needed to attack. The _presence_ of the Autobots is what protected us for so long. The first chance they got, the Decepticons didn't demand Optimus or Bumblebee or Ratchet. They demanded _me_. They were after Earth, after our sun. The Autobots had nothing to do with that."

"They followed the Autobots here…"

Had the man paid attention _at all_ to what I'd been saying for the last three days? "Actually," I interrupted him, ignoring the glare that earned me. "The Decepticons were here first. They were here almost 20,000 years ago. It was a Decepticon that built the Solar Harvester, but the Primes, the same family as Optimus Prime, stopped him from using it then. He's been trying ever since to get back here and turn it on. It was – " The word 'luck' died in my throat. It wasn't luck. It couldn't be. The odds were too long. " – providential that the Autobots were already here and in a position to stop The Fallen."

"Barely."

"But they did." _Optimus_ did.

"Only after more than ten thousand humans died," he snapped back. "Do you have any idea how many casualties we took in the Battle of Giza alone?"

No, but I was one of them. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I was there, sir. We had to cross the Decepticon front line to get to Optimus. I was literally in the middle of it. I've been at the epicenter of this for two years. My parents were captured by the Decepticons who attacked Paris and they almost died at Giza. And the Autobots suffered casualties, too."

Black smacked his hand on the top of his desk. "They're walking weapons! We don't know what will happen with those machines running loose, and to be honest, boy, that scares the hell out of me! You're asking too much!"

_We don't know what will happen._ A memory flashed through my mind, then – Agent Simmons pinned to a car by Lennox with a gun to his heart. I'd done this before. I'd done this from the start. And that day, at least, I'd done it right.

Sudden confidence swelled in me. " _I_ know what will happen, Admiral. We will quietly sail to our destination unharmed – no matter what may come our way, whether it's other humans or Decepticons or no one at all. Yes, they are walking weapons, but they have abided by every restriction both you and the governments of the world have placed upon them. They _want_ to blend in and get along."

His mouth was set in a hard line. "Then why are they hoarding their weapons and technology from us?"

I thought it but didn't say, would _you_ give a two-year-old a loaded shot-gun? "Is that all you see, sir? Weapons and technology?"

"That's what they _are._ "

"Not any more than we're just hormones and…and skin. They are _people_. They have families and art. They have friendships that span thousands of years." Like a bolt of lightning, I understood that was his real problem. He didn't realize what set them apart from the Decepticons. But could he handle the answer? I eyed him warily. "If you want to understand them – really truly understand them – I can tell you the secret, but I doubt you'd believe me."

_Please, please, please let me be right about telling him this!_

The admiral's jaw clenched once. "I'm listening."

"And you'll believe me? Or at least try to?"

"I'm listening," he repeated, his eyes hard.

I took a deep breath. I had to explain this just right, because if he didn't get it, then I may as well give up on the ambassador thing now. Maybe some Providence or another _was_ listening, because inspiration struck. "Did you know Major Lennox has a little girl?"

"What does this have to do with the machines?"

"Bear with me, sir. Major Lennox, how old is your girl?"

He glanced at me sidelong, a 'you'd better know what you're doing' look in his eyes. "Two."

"So she's little more than a baby. And how many people have you killed in your military career?"

"Unknown." His answer was clipped – he was irritated with me for bringing him into this.

I looked back to the admiral. "Here is a killer, sir. A killing machine, some would argue, who's even lost count of the number of lives he's taken. But he's also a family man and none of us bat an eyelash at that. His baby girl is safe with him because he loves her." Leaning forward on my elbows, I said, "The Autobots are fierce, powerful killing machines, just like Major Lennox. And both Major Lennox and the Autobots are fierce because they _love_."

I stared into Admiral Black's eyes, willing him to understand. "Optimus Prime loves me as a brother so much that he took on three of the strongest Decepticons single-handedly. They wanted to kill me, but he fought to a _brutal_ death to protect me. It was, literally, over his dead body that they even had a chance. But here's the kicker. He'd have done the same for Major Lennox or you or some stranger off the street. He loves humanity that much."

Sitting back, I said, "Have _you_ ever fought to the death for someone you loved?"

Black pressed his lips together and, mirroring me, sat back. He was actually thinking about it! I felt an unexpected flash of respect for the man. Even if he didn't believe me yet, at least he was finally thinking about it. That was all I really wanted – a _chance_ to change his mind. Considering his reaction for the last three days, that was something I'd almost given up on.

"Who are the Decepticons fighting for?" he finally, quietly asked.

"Not who," I answered, "what: dominion. And that is the difference between the Autobots patiently sitting in your cargo bay and the Decepticons who ripped through the _Roosevelt_ and slaughtered thousands of innocents."

Again, he thought long and hard about what I'd said, and I started to feel just a shadow of hope that I might bring him around. Looking at Lennox, he asked, "You've worked with these things for two years. Would you agree with what Mr. Witwicky has said?"

"Every word, sir."

"About all the aliens? This Prime died protecting him, but what about the others?"

Lennox gave me another sidelong glance, but this time, he was looking to me for…permission? Help? Turning back to the Admiral, he said, "The Autobots' most trigger-happy, gruff, foul-mouthed warrior is Ironhide. My daughter climbs around in the cab of his vehicle form, and my wife drives with him occasionally, even if I'm not there. I trust him not only with my own life, but with the lives of the two people I love most in the world. And if I might add, sir, the Autobots are military. They know how to follow orders, and they take orders from both Optimus _and_ me."

He hesitated again, mulling over Lennox's words. Looking at me, he said, "You say these aliens consider you their brother. What about you? Do _you_ consider Prime _your_ brother?"

A knot of anxiety that had filled me since Optimus first called me a Prime suddenly unwound and melted away. "Yes sir, I do."


	10. Servant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pulling extensively from the movie novelization for information about the All Spark and Matrix in this chapter. Only one major reveal is my own invention – Megatron's overarching motivation and what the Fallen taught him to do. I'm extrapolating that from his rather intriguing statement to Starscream: "Even in death, there is no command but mine."

I tried to hide the spring in my step, but I don't think it worked. Especially since Optimus could probably have felt my jubilant mood all the way on the moon. His blue eyes peered down to me from where he sat on the flight deck, and I waved the paper in my hand in his direction.

"Civilian-level access, even for Wheelie!"

The Decepticon-turned-Autobot had garnered even more suspicion from the higher-ups than the Autobots and had been held under close guard in another part of the ship. Mikaela visited him several times a day. He hadn't gone quietly into solitary confinement until Mikaela personally assured him that the only person who was allowed to torture him was her. _Why_ did she have to _encourage_ the creep?

"I just received the email," Optimus answered, extending his hand to me. "And VIP-level access for me. Thank you, Sam. Each day, I am deeper in your debt."

I settled into the palm of his hand. "Pshaw. You died for me. I'll spend a lifetime paying off _that_ debt."

"You died for me, too," he reminded me softly.

Somehow, I hadn't seen it in that light before. Huh. "I guess that almost makes us even," I answered.

"Almost."

I smiled at how…solemn he sounded. He took me far too seriously sometimes. Sobering a little, I asked, "So what's the lesson on tonight?"

"What do you want to know?"

I sighed, sifting through the chaos of the last several days, trying to get to the heart of it all. I'd come to grips with the fact that, like it or not, I was the Autobot ambassador, and tonight's victory taught me that I could actually pull off a few of the things Optimus needed from me. I'd come to accept that I wasn't a normal kid and that my problems were as far from normal as Earth was from Cybertron. I'd even come to accept that Optimus and I really were brothers on some level, though I doubted anything I could do as an ambassador would put us on equal footing. I could get a handle on all that, but the Prime thing still bothered me. "What does it mean, _exactly_ , to be a Prime?"

He paused for a moment in surprise. I don't know why he would be, unless he was surprised that I hadn't asked a lot sooner. "Jetfire explained well the reason for their existence. They were servants of the All Spark, guardians and stewards. They…tended it."

"But they were more than that," I prompted. "They could read the histories when no one else could."

"Yes," he said softly. "Culturally and traditionally, they were more. Much more."

I leaned back, preparing myself for a better lecture from him than I'd ever get in any university.

"To understand what the Primes meant to us culturally, you must first understand what the All Spark meant. We regarded it in much the same way your species once regarded the sun. It was the source of _life_ , not just creating it but sustaining it. In almost every Earth religion, that was the power of the divine. There is no good translation for how we felt about it – the All Spark was cherished, benevolent, sacred, beautiful."

"Benevolent? You make it sound almost...sentient."

"Some believed it was. Some believed it was a tool for or manifestation of Someone else. Some even thought it was made by aliens." He lifted an amused optic ridge at that one. "Regardless, how could the Creator of sparks – of souls – not have one?"

"And I destroyed it." Did that make me as bad as the Fallen? _I_ destroyed _their_ sun.

"No, Sam." His kind assurance eased my guilt. "It was my choice to destroy it. You merely chose how. The...miracle is that it was not destroyed at all." He paused, and I felt his…I couldn't find the right word for it. He felt overwhelmed and maybe just a touch confused. Like I'd felt the last several days. "Remember that I said Primes were guardians and stewards over the All Spark? You were acting as a Prime when you risked your life to protect the Cube from Megatron on the roof of that building. Your feet were set on this path a long time ago. I recognized that, but didn't understand what it meant until now."

I blinked, trying to wrap my brain around it. "So…what are you saying, that I've been a Prime since then?"

"No. Primes are born, Sam, not made."

"But that doesn't make any _sense_!" I burst out. "I'm _human_!" I'd been slowly getting used to the idea that the Matrix particles made me a Prime in the eyes of the Autobots, but this…this was too much to accept. I'd been _born_ to do all this? Brand-spanking-new little baby Sammy was a Prime? Geeky ten-year-old me who couldn't catch Mikaela's eye if my life depended on it was a _Prime_? That _couldn't_ be right!

And that just led to another mountain of questions. What part of my life was fate? What part was choice? Was Optimus _fated_ to die for me? Was I _fated_ to bring him back? He seemed to think so.

"The Cube was here being used and handled by humans. It makes perfect sense that the All Spark would choose a human Prime as a guardian and servant."

I shook my head, rebelling at what he was saying, but a little voice in the back of my mind whispered, _Is it really that much harder to accept than the idea that I'm a Prime at all?_ Sighing, I said, "Then I've been a spectacular failure."

His kind assurance swelled in my heart again. "No, Sam. You have fulfilled your role well. Remember that I said the All Spark wasn't destroyed?"

I cautiously nodded.

"I spent three days with my brother Primes and learned much. We were created to serve the All Spark, to ensure its survival by replenishing it, and when more of our race was created, to stand as intercessors and guides regarding it. It has the power to give life, but it did not always grant life when asked. Long before the artifacts related to the Fallen were uncovered, Megatron wanted to find a way to control the power of the All Spark, to force it to give life to every protoform created and – more importantly, in his mind – restore life to the empty shell of an extinguished spark. The All Spark only ever granted life once."

He sighed, but I only felt an echo of his sorrow. He must be blocking me out again at least a little bit. "Knowing that the Dynasty of the Primes was ended, Megatron began to want that power and name for himself. Unknown to me at the time, the Fallen taught him how to modify the All Spark to his ends as proof that he could make Megatron a Prime. But in modifying the Cube, Megatron corrupted the All Spark's physical form. That is why it only created Decepticons here on Earth. That is why the Shard was able to reanimate Megatron while the Cube never could. That is why every last physical piece of the All Spark was fated to be destroyed. In Mission City, we both fulfilled our roles as servants of the All Spark."

He paused for a moment and gave me a look that I'd come to dread over the last few days. It was the expression he had right before he dropped another bomb in my lap. "What we once knew as the All Spark survived. Literally, in you."

"ME?"

"You are a Prime. You were first a guardian and then a steward."

"Are you saying I was _possessed_?"

He smiled ever so slightly. "No. You just had a stow-away."

"Had?" I hopefully asked. Past tense. Past tense was good.

"It took a form incorruptible by design – the Matrix of Leadership."

"Incorruptible." I thought about that for a second. "But the Fallen used it."

"He used it as a key, which he had earned the right to do long ago. But he could never use it to ignite sparks. Or reignite them. That he had no right to do."

I let out a huge sigh. Wow. This was almost as much of an information overload as the first night. "So...I was born a Prime. I didn't kill the All Spark. I gave it a piggy-back ride to the Matrix, and now it's...where? What happened to it?"

"It resides in the Matrix which I carry in a compartment on my frame."

I turned that over in my mind for a minute, hope slowly growing in me. "So…being a Prime is, essentially, being a guardian of the All Spark, which means the Matrix now, right?"

"Yes."

"And since you and your two energon swords are carrying it around at all times, that means I'm pretty much off the hook, right?"

"No."

"Damn."

A hint of a smile warmed his face. Affection swelled in my chest, and I recognized it was coming from him. "The Matrix is physically different, Sam. It has different needs. And _you_ are different, something new, as well."

I sighed deeply. Of course.

"The All Spark gave life by radiating power. The Matrix's power is focused and must be wielded."

"Wielded. You make it sound like a weapon."

"It is great power," he solemnly declared, and I felt the weight of his words. "In giving or in taking life, it is wielded. It is double-edged, like a dagger."

"Okay...so what does this have to do with me?"

"I am the Matrix's guardian. You are its steward."

"I don't follow you."

"I protect it; you use it."

" _Use_ it?" I was embarrassed that my voice cracked. "As in…what? Stabbing protoforms to make new little Autobots?"

He ignored my sarcasm. "To create new life, yes."

I wasn't sure if he meant to broadcast his emotions then or not. There was something more he wanted to tell me, but he was uncertain whether he should or not.

This bond was turning out to be really useful. "Spit it out."

"To create life and…to restore life."

"What, like bring people back from the dead?"

"If it is their fate."

I leaned my head back against his fingers, knowing exactly who he was referring to. Arcee. She was dead because of me, too. Like Optimus, she'd fought to the death to protect me.

It was bad enough that the Autobots practically worshipped me for reigniting Optimus. If I started making a habit of it, who knew what crazy ideas they'd start getting. "Why can't you just do it?" I asked.

He looked down. "An excellent question."

But after a minute, I realized he wasn't going to answer it. He was…I tried reaching through my heart into his, but I don't think it worked. All I could find was shame.

"Perhaps it would be good to dream tonight," he finally said, lowering me to the flight deck.

Talk about changing the subject. I guessed tonight's lesson was over.

He was right, though. I had to break my Lortab addiction sooner or later. Besides, it was cowardly to keep this up. I'd had four days now. It should be long enough. I'd give the pills back to Ratchet in the morning.

"Same time tomorrow?" Because I was _sure_ I'd have a million questions once I'd had time to really think about this.

"Yes." He reclined onto the flight deck. "Pleasant dreams."

Yeah right. But to be polite, I said, "You, too."

"We don't dream like you do," he said softly. "It's much more controlled. We process information and occasionally imagine in a way similar to humans' lucid dreams. Nightmares are very rare among us."

"Lucky you," I muttered. "Good night."

"And to you."


	11. Dreamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is why the story rating is T. I fully intended to keep this at a Gen rating, but I'm probably walking the line with the first scene here, so I'm giving everyone the heads-up just to be safe. I tried to keep this fic as innocent as possible, but Sam and Mikaela _are_ hormonal teenagers, and they just wouldn't behave any longer. *sigh* It's a _very_ mild T, but if you're reading it with kids, I won't be offended if you skip to the scene break (indicated by ellipses). The rest of the chapter is solidly Gen and you'll still be able to understand what's going on.
> 
> Sorry about the short chapter, but I'll make up for it with the next one. ;) Oh, and Elita's story is canon from IDW's movieverse comic, _The Reign of Starscream_.

Mikaela was waiting up for me tonight, lying in my bunk. That was a pleasant surprise.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Hey." Her lips were somewhere between a pout and a frown.

Knowing what she wanted to hear, I sat on the bed, facing her. "I love you, Mikaela."

"I want to love you."

Uh-oh. "What's wrong?"

Her pout turned just a little sly. "What's wrong is that you keep saying you love me but you've been too beat up or drugged up to show me."

_Oh!_ "Here? We're on an aircraft carrier! My parents are just on the other side of that wall."

The pout returned. "Fine." She sat up, but she couldn't swing her feet to the floor with me in her way.

"Where do you think you're going?" I asked playfully, leaning closer to her. "I didn't say no. As it so happens, I'm not drugged up tonight."

The invitation in her bright eyes was stunning. "Yeah?" she said hopefully.

I kissed her, amazed like always that she loved me – my silly, earth-shattering, life-long dream come true. "Yeah."

It turned out that, even without the pain killers, I had no trouble falling asleep…eventually.

…

The dream, when it came, was not what I was expecting.

Optimus was standing at the end of the flight-deck, watching the sunrise. I walked toward him, drawn to his side. We were the same height. I was surprised; he wasn't.

He turned away from me to face east. "Look."

Looking at the sun peeking over the horizon, I appreciated the dawn for the first time in my life. Were it not for the being beside me, this sun warming my face would be dead. Gratitude swept over me. Optimus radiated both relief and satisfaction at the sight.

Abruptly, it was night, but the change wasn't frightening. Optimus and I were talking as we had for the last four nights, but instead of me sitting in his hand, we were both still standing, eye-to-eye.

"Why can't you just do it?" the dream-me asked again, echoing our conversation last night.

And again he answered, "An excellent question."

This time I clearly felt his emotions, and I realized we'd been working our way to this point from the very first night. "You fear it," I repeated, answering the question for him. I now understood that what I had written off as intuition that night had been the brother-bond.

"As one Prime to another…"

Abruptly the scene changed again. We were in Ratchet's med bay here on the ship. Three shattered Autobot bodies were laid out side by side on the workbench – pink, purple, and blue. Arcee. The blue one was the most intact, and Ratchet was patiently repairing her empty shell. Bumblebee stood looking on, his door-wings drooping in all-too-familiar sorrow.

"Optimus was reignited," Ratchet said to 'Bee. "There is hope."

Prime stepped closer to them, but they ignored him and me. Resting his hand gently on blue-Arcee's helm, Optimus said, "I do not know what made The Fallen rebel, Sam, but I know what would be _my_ downfall. They are dear to me…"

Abruptly we were in Mission City, Jazz's torn body in Optimus' arms.

Again the scene shifted, and we were on a far-distant planet. A femme was pleading with Starscream in words I didn't understand. With a wave of his hand, her spark was drained and she fell to the ground, optics dark and empty. Optimus stepped forward and lovingly gathered her dead, delicate frame into his arms, briefly resting his forehead against hers. "Too dear."

Abruptly we were on the dark flight deck again. Optimus lifted his hand and opened it. The Matrix glimmered in his palm. "Too dear," he repeated, his blue optics boring into mine. I could see the emotion there as I never could before, pleading for understanding and forgiveness. "It would be selfishness to even make an attempt. That would be the first step in my downfall."

"But it can't be wrong to give them life again," I argued.

"It is not _my_ fate to reignite others' sparks."

Clear as the pleading in his optics, I _knew_ whose fate it was.

Again echoing our first nighttime conversation, he repeated, "It is not a burden you need to shoulder now."

Abruptly we were facing the dawn again. "I know how heavy a burden the name of Prime is…" His voice fell to a whisper almost. "The weight of others' lives and futures is not an easy load. I hesitate to even thank you for reigniting my spark, worrying it will add to the weight you carry. Do not think me ungrateful."

The light drained away to black, his last words echoing in my mind. My eyes opened to darkness, and I glanced at the alarm clock mounted on the desk. 0517 hours. In the dim light from the numbers, I could see Mikaela was in her own bunk, sound asleep.

I stared up toward the ceiling as my mind sorted through the images of the dream. Nightmares were rare among them…did this mean I wouldn't have to have nightmares either? Was the dream part of the brother-bond? Was it a message or was it just what Optimus was dreaming about, too?

I couldn't imagine my own mind coming up with all that on my own; it had to come from Optimus. Things he couldn't tell me out loud – his own fears, his shame at not being everything that the Matrix needed of a Prime, his sorrow that I had to help carry part of his load.

But there were things that were hard for me to say out loud, too – that no matter what the Autobots seemed to think, I wasn't some god to go around handing out life like candy; that I'd finally found out what it was like to be extraordinary and now I wanted to be anything but; that I loved Mikaela so much it frightened me sometimes; that I'd never had a brother, but this bond I now shared with Optimus was more comforting than I would have thought possible. Maybe it was just because it was him.

I closed my eyes, relaxing into my pillow. I didn't know how to reach out to him with my mind, and maybe I wouldn't be able to consciously, but if I could fall back to sleep and he was still in recharge….

We were standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the flight-deck watching the dawn again. Knowing he would perceive it in the dream, I mentally reviewed all the reasons why I couldn't be a Prime, and the one inescapable reason I _had_ to be: Optimus. "You really believe it?" I asked him.

"Yes," he answered simply.

I sighed, finally swallowing the truth. "Takes one to know one."

I could feel the warmth of his smile. "I never understood that paradox until now."

My acceptance and his relief and brotherly pride swelled in my soul. To the dawn, I declared, "I, Samuel James Witwicky, am a Prime."

Abruptly we were in Ratchet's med bay, the seven Primes fitting in there better than I would have thought. Six were ancient; the seventh, smallest one was marked with red and blue flames. Optimus placed the Matrix in my waiting hands.

…

"Sam?" I jumped awake in the darkness. Mikaela's soft hand was on my arm. "Sam?"

The alarm in her voice made my answer sharp. "What?"

"You were talking in your sleep. You said you're a Prime."

I sighed. So much for keeping this under wraps. Squeezing her hand, I said, "Yeah. There are Cybertronian alloy particles in my bloodstream. They're from the Matrix."

"The Autobots think that makes you a Prime? Is that why you've been talking with Ratchet?"

I pulled her down onto the bunk with me. "Yeah."

"But you're not."

I was silent for a moment. I didn't want anyone else to know. I wanted to pretend again that I was just Sam, but Mikaela didn't see me as 'just Sam' to begin with and I realized that it was safe to tell her. "I can be. If I choose to. Arcee's dead, but I might be able to bring her back."

"She's _dead_?"

"Yeah. She died at Giza."

The words hung in the air between us for a moment, and I worried she was going to freak out on me.

Her voice was just surprised, though, when she finally asked, " _You_ can?"

"Maybe. If it's her fate. The Matrix survived. I mean, think about it. Its alt-form is dust. Why would a little explosion break it? There was enough power in it to bring Optimus back to life – if it had been destroyed, it would have taken at least the entire pyramid out with it. Optimus has it, but I'm the only one who's supposed to use it."

"So why haven't you?"

Such a complicated question. "You know how we all feel about Optimus?"

"Yeah?"

"The Autobots already feel that way about me. I don't want humans all looking at me that way, too. I still dream of having a kinda sorta normal life for us."

"Oh." After a moment, she asked, "So what are you going to do?"

I glanced at the desk again – it was a few minutes before six o'clock. "Something I should have done a while ago."


	12. Intercessor

Taking a deep breath as the doors opened, I stepped off the lift into the Autobot cargo bay. There was no going back now, but I'd already done this once before. It was my…responsibility as the human Prime to do for the Autobots what Optimus couldn't. Or rather, shouldn't. Beside me, Mikaela squeezed my hand and smiled encouragingly.

From Ratchet's med bay, Bumblebee saw us and hurried over, chirping his usual good morning.

"Hi," I said, my voice subdued.

Bumblebee crouched down and peered at me, worry in his hum, as if to say 'What's wrong?'

I managed a slightly-nervous smile for him. "Nothing's wrong. I'm here to make things right."

'Bee tilted his head, making a curious trill.

Wheelie saw us, too, and zipped over, transforming and groveling at Mikaela's feet. "Warrior goddess! Warrior goddess!"

She grinned and bent down to pat him on the head. "Hey, Wheelie."

The little ex-'Con ranted, "You wouldn't believe what they've put me through here. I tell you, if I hear one more crack about me being small…"

Ignoring Wheelie, I asked, "Where's Optimus?"

Turning at the sounds of transformation behind me, I saw him rise into view. "I'm here, boy."

"I'm ready."

Giving my hand one last squeeze, Mikaela said, "I'll just wait out here." Her gaze darted down to the little turncoat. "I think somebody had some separation anxiety."

Nodding, I gratefully gave her a quick kiss, and then let go of her hand. To Bumblebee, I said, "Take me to Arcee."

His hands caught me up, joy in his wordless voice as he practically sang out to Ratchet. The medic turned and, seeing me, retracted the tool he'd been using, replacing it with a hand. "Hello, Samuel."

"Hi."

Bumblebee strode to the table I'd only seen from beneath. Just like in my dream, the three bodies were laid out, but the blue component was in even better shape than when I'd seen her in Optimus' memories. "Good work, Ratchet."

"Thank you," he murmured.

"No, I mean, _good work._ I want you to take credit for this."

The shock in his face almost made me laugh. "But I couldn't…"

"I'm not ready for the world to know yet. I still want to try to have a life, but I'm not going to be selfish and keep Arcee from living hers, not if it's her fate. Or Jazz." I looked up at Optimus, realizing I didn't know the name of the femme he loved. "Or her."

"Elita One," he softly answered.

"Elita One," I repeated. Looking back at Ratchet, I said, "The Autobots can know because they kind of do already, but don't tell the humans, not even Lennox. Give them whatever story you want, but keep my secret until I'm ready to share it. Okay?"

Ratchet nodded. "If that's what you want, Samuel."

"And knock that off!" I said sharply. "You guys don't worship the ground Prime…" I verbally stumbled over the word, remembering it applied to me, too. "…Optimus walks on. I don't want you to treat me any differently than you did before. I'm still 'the boy,' okay?"

"If that's what you want, Sam," Ratchet deferentially answered.

I glared at Bumblebee until he bobbed his head once, hanging it a little and his antennas laying back.

"Okay," I said to myself, satisfied. With more peace than I'd expected, I turned to…my fellow Prime. "Optimus?"

He opened a compartment in his hip and retrieved the Matrix, placing it almost reverently in my hands. It glimmered as I knelt beside blue-Arcee and again I could feel…something in the air. I'd been too focused on Optimus last time to pay much attention, but now I could feel it like light glowing from Mikaela and the Autobots throughout the cargo hold and the engines churning away in the depths of the ship. I could feel the pull of the tide in the water that held us, the hinted-at fire of the sun hovering just below the horizon. Power – I was aware of power in all its forms.

I looked at the blue figure on the table with me. That wasn't right. I could sense the power, but it wasn't responding. I distinctly remembered how the Matrix had flared to life and warmed in my hand before I reignited Optimus, but its light still only glimmered as it had when Optimus was holding it. I rose to my feet again, worry making my brow pucker. Even though the blue component was the one in the best shape, the Matrix made no response. Walking toward the purple one in the middle, I could feel that wasn't the right form either. Was I wrong about the dream? Was I not supposed to bring Arcee back? Kneeling, I held the Matrix closer to the middle body, and still nothing.

Beginning to feel desperate, I rose to my feet again, but before I'd taken a single step toward the pink one, the Matrix warmed in my hand, the light glowing between my fingers. Okay, then. Walking to the pink component's side, I glanced up at Ratchet. "It has to be this one. Do you need to do anything first? I know you've been focusing on repairing the blue one."

He made an unhappy grunt and stepped closer. "The only real difference between them is the coloring, though Arcee was pink before her upgrade."

I couldn't imagine that making a difference, but… "It _has_ to be this one."

"Hmm. Does it have to be that shell or that spark chamber? That _is_ her original chamber."

My rising panic was met with Optimus' confidence in me. It was almost effortless now to recognize when I was sensing him; the dream apparently had solidified our bond somehow. In the back of my mind, I wondered if it could grow even stronger. But when I looked at Optimus, his expression was as uncertain as mine. He couldn't help me with this any more than I could help him with his energon swords. "I don't know," I told Ratchet.

"Please step back, then, Samuel. This will take a few minutes."

Bumblebee picked me up and away from Ratchet's circular saw, cradling me in his hands. Since I was still holding the Matrix, I could _feel_ his spark – the warmth, the strength of it. He was so incredibly happy that I was going to try to bring Arcee back, but what if the Matrix didn't grant her life again? Only the corrupted All Spark Cube gave life _every_ time.

'Bee's words, spliced together from the voices of strangers, echoed in my mind. 'You can only fail us by not trying.' But I would _feel_ like a failure if this didn't work. I remembered how…depressed he'd been before, and I couldn't bear to see him heartbroken like that _all the time_. This had to work. It _had_ to.

Ratchet retracted the circular saw. "I could spend days repairing her, but she should survive now at least."

I nodded, and Bumblebee set me beside the pink-Arcee again. Ratchet had swapped her blasted-open helm with the blue component's head, and he'd done something with her internals since her chest was still open from the repair.

I knelt down. There was no need to stab her – she was much smaller than Optimus. I pushed the Matrix between her armor plates and into the empty, hastily-repaired spark-chamber.

In a sliver of a second, threads of power flowed from the Autobots' sparks, from Mikaela, from the ship's engines, from the living sun, from my own soul. Flowed into me and, through me, into Arcee, weaving into something new and all her own.

Arcee's optics flashed to life, focusing on Optimus as he loomed over her. Air whooshed from her vents in what sounded like an exasperated sigh. "Aw, frag. I joined you, did I?"

Optimus barked out a laugh, the sound almost stunning for being so rare. "Yes, Arcee, you joined me, but in more than just death. We have the privilege of being the only two reignited sparks in existence."

She blinked, finally noticing the rest of us. Shifting, she tried to sit up, but Ratchet eased her back down. "Don't move yet. Our Primes will want their Matrix back, and your repair systems will need the power from it for a little while yet. All you need to do right now is recharge and heal."

"Our…Primes?" Arcee turned her head, focusing on me this time. "Your plan worked?" She tentatively raised her clawed hand. It reminded me vaguely of Megatron's, but her motion was hesitant, and when one of her fingers brushed my cheek, the warm touch was light and very gentle. "Thank you, Samuel."

"You gave your life trying to save me," I pointed out, half-smiling. "I should be thanking you."

She nodded once, acknowledging me, and then turned her head to face the other direction. "Hey, 'Bee. You okay?"

His fingertips brushed once over hers and everything about him lifted in happiness – his shoulders, his door-wings, his antennas. Happiness swelled in my heart at the sight, almost like 'Bee and I shared some kind of bond as well.

He reluctantly let his hand fall to his side again, and I realized just how deeply and strongly the friendship between them ran. Autobots didn't often touch each other unless they were rough-housing, and Bumblebee obviously wished he could hold her hand a little longer.

"Well, I came back," she said to him matter-of-factly, apparently answering something he had sent via comm. "Better luck next time."

He teasingly flicked her helm with a pinging sound.

A motion near the door caught my attention, and I turned to see Skids and Mudflap staring slack-jawed. "Arcee?" Mudflap finally said in disbelief. I remembered then that they hadn't been there to witness Optimus' return.

When the _twins_ were surprised speechless, it was time for me to leave. I don't know if hero-worship ran any deeper than _that_.

"Stop crowding her," Ratchet said, stepping to the doorway and shooing them away. "She's still recovering. You'll get a chance to talk with her in a while." Glancing down, he saw Mikaela and nodded her into the med bay, but he blocked Wheelie with his foot. The toy truck reversed and sulkily waited beside the entryway. Bumblebee happily mumbled Mikaela's name and lifted her to the table to be near Arcee. 'Kaela greeted her in a low voice.

"Well, Primes," Ratchet huffed, turning to look at us but staying to block the doorway.

"Prime, singular," I corrected him. "As in there's only one. At least if you're talking out loud where others can overhear you."

He ignored me. "How much are we telling the humans?"

Optimus extended his hand, offering to give me a ride, and I climbed into his open palm. "I'll remind them that I have the Matrix," he answered Ratchet. "We'll let them make the wrong assumptions."

Ratchet looked at me. "Does that work for you, Sam?"

"You told them it was broken," I reminded Optimus.

"I should never have lied," he grumbled to himself.

" _You_ lied?" Ratchet stammered in shock.

"They were asking about the Matrix," he said defensively. "After our experience with the shard of the All Spark, I was not about to place it in human hands." He glanced once at me, "Not unless that human was a Prime. I did not tell an untruth, but I didn't tell them everything, either."

I chuckled, sensing his disappointment with himself. Focusing on feeling forgiving, I realized _that's_ how you comfort an Autobot. I was so glad I'd recognized this before Ratchet had figured out how to remove the particles. "Tell them we didn't know if it would still work or not until we tried it, because _that's_ the honest truth. If anyone has a problem with you keeping the Matrix, I'll go after them for you."

Optimus nodded in agreement, and it was proof of just how much things had changed that I didn't once suspect he was sarcastic or humoring me. It may be in very different ways, but we fought for each other, and Optimus trusted me in my arena as much as I trusted him in his.

"But what about Jazz and Elita One?" I asked him. "Won't NEST expect you to…be the one to reignite them?"

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," Optimus answered slowly. "It will be weeks at the soonest before we'll be able to recover Jazz from the ocean floor and even longer before we can bring Elita to you." In a lower voice, he said, "I dread to think how long. And it may not be their fate to return."

"But we have hope," Ratchet pointed out, awe tingeing his voice. Looking at me, he added, "For longer than I care to recall, I've been fighting a losing battle, Samuel Prime. Not against Decepticons, but against death. I'll call you 'boy' if you ask me to, but it won't change who you are or what you've done. You've given this old cynic hope. Go try to live a normal life, but make sure you carry that knowledge around in your heart, Sam. You reignite more than just lives; you spark hope."


	13. United

Ratchet gave Arcee a good twenty minutes to tap the energy from the Matrix, and by then, Optimus himself had to stand in the doorway to keep everyone from swarming us. They all wanted to see her for themselves. I joined Mikaela on the table with Arcee, helping Mikaela fill the femme in on everything that had happened.

Finally, as an irritated Ironhide was on the verge of escalating the mob to a riot, Ratchet told me it was safe to remove the Matrix. Once Arcee's chest plates were closed again, the medic said, "You can let them in, now.

Bumblebee snatched up Mikaela and me to prevent us from being knocked to the floor and trampled. Ironhide was the first one to Arcee's side, ranting, "You fragging femme! You got killed on me! _Killed!_ Chromia would have had my aft if we hadn't found a way to get you back. She would have slagged me to the Pit and back! Don't you _ever_ do that to me again!"

Optimus was standing back and away from the hubbub, watching his Autobots with a satisfied expression. Reaching out with my heart, I felt his complete and utter joy, so intense it brought shocking tears to my eyes. I hastily wiped them away, realizing that even in this, Optimus felt he had to be the grounded, confidence-inspiring leader, not an overly emotional spectator. I narrowed my eyes at him, letting him feel how stupid I thought that was. He sent amusement my way in answer.

"Bee? I need to return this," I said, holding up the Matrix.

Bumblebee brought us to my fellow Prime and Optimus placed the Matrix again in the compartment on his frame. It was kind of funny to think he carried the power of the gods in his hip-pocket.

"ENOUGH!" A distinctly feminine roar made me turn my head, and the other Autobots staggered away from Arcee. She was sitting up with her rifle level and activated, pointing it randomly at the back-pedaling 'bots, including Ratchet when he stepped in to make her lay down again. "You lug-headed mechs are making enough noise to wake the dead!"

Beside me, Mikaela busted up laughing, and I couldn't help a snigger or two. I was almost high on the joy of the moment.

Arcee winked at us and then focused on her fellow Autobots. In a firm but quieter tone, she said, "I'm sure you didn't treat Optimus like a circus freak when he came back. Now out! I'll see you when I slagging well want to."

"Why do you think I flew away?" Optimus chuckled.

Sideswipe was the one nearest to the door, and he checked himself mid-stride as he went to leave. Will Lennox was standing in the way staring slack-jawed. The room went dead silent.

Crap!

"Major," Optimus said, leading the way out of the med bay and then crouching down to talk with him. The other Autobots began to file out, too.

I sighed. "Put me down, 'Bee. And thanks," I added as an afterthought. Because we _would_ have been squishy grease-spots if he hadn't snatched us out of the way.

He stepped out into the cargo bay before setting us on our feet and mumbling, "Welcome."

"The Matrix we thought was damaged still functions," Optimus was saying to Lennox. "We were not certain it would."

The major gave me a hard look. "We?"

I pressed my lips together and didn't answer.

"The Matrix is a treaty-protected technology, Will," Optimus said gently. "This is an Autobot matter, not a NEST one."

"That's bull, and you know it," he snarled back. "That's Arcee in there, and she's one of mine as much as she's one of yours."

Optimus sighed. "This is not something I can discuss with you, Major Lennox."

"Then what about Iron Will? Can you tell _him_?"

My brow furrowed in confusion, and Optimus turned to me, his spark begging my permission to share this secret. Judging by the way Lennox was looking at me, it would just annoy the hell out of him to exclude him, and he was shrewd enough to figure out at least part of this already. "Fine."

Broadcasting relief and gratitude, Optimus confirmed, "Sam used the Matrix to reignite Arcee's spark. The Matrix itself is in my protection."

The apprehension in Lennox's eyes as he looked at me confirmed all my worst fears. "You can do it just like that? Give them life? Any of them, any time?"

"No," I answered. "It's…" I tried to find a good way to explain it. " _I'm_ the tool of the _Matrix_ , not the other way around."

"The power of the All Spark Fragment was only guessed at," Optimus continued. "It was little more than a reminder of the world we once loved, and yet even that was put to evil use. We know the power of the Matrix, and I will not relinquish it to human custody. I will not let even Sam carry it beyond my sight."

His feelings made it clear that was because he was worried about what might happen to me, not about what I might do.

Something Optimus said made Lennox's expression change from fear to worry and he looked to me again. "Do you think the Matrix would work a second time on the same mech?"

"I don't know," I answered, understanding who he meant.

"I don't intend for it to be necessary," Optimus said, an annoyed edge to his voice and feelings. Getting back down to business, he said, "What will you report to your superiors?"

Lennox considered that. "I'll tell them that Ratchet was able to repair the Matrix and that you two…"

"I," Optimus interrupted. "I am the one who holds the Matrix, Iron Will. Sam does not wish for his role to be known to the humans yet."

Will tried again. "I'll report that Ratchet was able to repair the Matrix, that the Autobots used it to reactivate Arcee and that they wouldn't elaborate beyond that."

Both Optimus Prime _and_ Major William Lennox looked to me for approval, and the full force of what I'd done – of what I'd become – finally hit me. Overwhelmed, I wordlessly nodded.

"Before you leave," Optimus said to me (no doubt sensing my urge to bolt from the room), "are you ready for me to make the transmission?"

No turning back now. I was a Prime, and he was right that the Autobots needed to know. "Yeah. I'll meet you outside."

…

I stood with Mikaela on the flight-deck, appreciating the sunrise. The warmth that sank into my cold skin. The play of color on the clouds. The shimmer of light on the ocean waves. The light that we'd always taken for granted. The light that came at the price of _six_ Primes' lives. The sun that lived because Jetfire had also died.

Thinking again of the trailer down in the Autobot bay, I knew in my heart that Jetfire was one who would not be coming back. As Optimus had said, the sacrifice he made was his choice, and it would be wrong of us to not honor it. I half-smiled, realizing that, even if Jetfire had been given the option of returning to his worn-out old body or letting Prime…Optimus use his parts for an upgrade, he'd have chosen the upgrade every time. Still, I would miss him.

"So," Mikaela said, interrupting my musings, "are you going to try to go back to college?"

I sighed. It seemed like another lifetime that I had stood in the cemetery with Optimus and chewed him out for interrupting my first frat party. "I want to."

"But have you told anybody besides me?"

Blinking in surprise, I realized I hadn't; at least, I hadn't told anyone human and official. She was right, though. I'd already missed a week of classes, and unless I wanted to wait until next semester to pick things back up, I needed to start making _plans_. "I'll bring it up with al-Sharif this morning."

She nodded, her eyes bright. "Good. Because I'm kinda sorta looking forward to a life with you, too. Eventually."

I lightly kissed her. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd be dead," she retorted.

"True," I answered with a grin, knowing she was one-hundred-percent right. "Have I mentioned how much I love you?"

Her smile was breathtaking. "Not this morning."

Cupping her face with both my hands, I kissed her again, more serious this time. "I love you."

"Love you, too," she whispered.

"Alright, alright," a male voice ordered. "Break it up, you two." Lennox was walking toward us with al-Sharif at his side. "They can see you from the bridge, you know."

"And they're all insanely jealous," I said, winking at Mikaela.

He ignored that. "The JCS has cleared you to make the transmission pending review of the final draft. Optimus said he couldn't send it without your approval, but he indicated you were ready to transmit. The JCS needs to know what changes you made to it."

"Um…I didn't make any changes. It was fine the way it was."

Lennox gave me a mildly disgusted look as my attempt at deception did a face-plant in front of him. Optimus hadn't shared any draft with me, and he knew it. Yeah, I sucked at lying, always had. Given my role as ambassador, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. Probably a bad one.

"Pass that along for us, Ensign," he said to al-Sharif.

"Yes sir." The aide moved aside a polite couple of steps to use the phone.

Lennox eyed me warily for a moment and said, "I'll have you know, I got woken up two hours earlier than I needed to be this morning by someone shouting about out-of-control alien machines. He was convinced that 'the one with the cannons' was leading a mutiny against 'the big one.'"

I snorted. "Ironhide would strut like a peacock to hear that's what they call him."

"My point is I'd prefer to not have any more rude awakenings. I hauled Optimus all the way to Giza on nothing more than your say-so that you could do the impossible, Sam."

I heard the rebuke and realized I deserved it. He'd trusted me, and he'd earned a little more of my trust, too. And honesty. I nodded thoughtlfully. "I want to have a life. I want to go to college, fail a class or two, earn a degree, and do something stupid enough to get me slapped by Mikaela at least once."

She gave me a puzzled look at that one.

"I want to be _human_ ," I explained to them both. "It'll never be _normal_ but I want to live my life, even if it's a crazy one. And I can't do that if everyone knows the full extent of what happened this morning."

Understanding lit Lennox's eyes and he considered his answer for a second. "I keep their secrets. I can keep yours, too."

Optimus trusted him. So could I. Nodding, I promised, "No more rude awakenings.

"Jazz?"

I sighed. The man didn't survive by being stupid, and that one was obvious. "Maybe. Like I said, the power isn't _mine._ But I'll try."

"I'll do what I can to smooth the road."

"Thanks."

Al-Sharif joined us. "Admiral Black says you are clear to make the transmission, and Optimus says he'll be up shortly. Also, Misters Simmons and Spitz are requesting permission to join you here."

My brow furrowed. "Huh? Why?"

"Apparently they heard that there was a near-riot in the Autobot cargo bay this morning and the Autobots Skids and Mudflap told them what it was all about."

I looked to Lennox. "Permission to offline the twins?"

"Denied. Optimus has already called dibs."

I grimaced. "I'll arm-wrestle him for it." To al-Sharif, I said, "Fine, Leo and Simmons are welcome. This is their story, too, so i guess it's fitting they'll be here when Optimus shares it."

Al-Sharif nodded and stepped aside again.

I took a deep breath, butterflies suddenly filling my stomach at the thought of facing Leo and Simmons now that they knew. "Could you guys give me a minute?"

"Sure," Mikaela said gently.

When we got off this ship, I needed to do something _really_ nice for her. She'd been beside me every step of the way and was nothing short of amazing. Magnificent. Maybe I'd have time today to bounce some ideas off of 'Bee. He was always a helpful sounding board.

Giving her one quick kiss, I walked to the end of the runway. Knowing Optimus would be joining us soon, I tried listening with this new, barely-understood sense as I watched the sunrise again. Nothing yet.

My thoughts drifted back to the scene this morning in the med bay. Even Lennox was a bit awestruck by me now. To be honest, it frightened me a little to think of where the future might take me, where my fate might lead. But I took comfort in the fact that I had Mikaela and Optimus. Whatever the rest of the universe might think, I would always just be 'Sam' to them.

I felt Optimus' presence just seconds before I heard the sound of his approach.

"Thank you, Sam, for saving my life," he said.

I smiled, feeling the vote of confidence behind his words. He knew I was finally strong enough that his gratitude wouldn't be a burden to me. "You're welcome. Thank you for believing in me."

His warmth swelled in my heart; it was the only answer he gave. Taking his place beside me, we stood as brothers, side-by-side, while Optimus told the stars _our_ story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Jazz's interment, that's canon from IDW's TF:Alliance. Unlike Megatron and the others, though, Jazz was in a "coffin" (the tractor-trailer Optimus pulled to evacuate Jazz's body from Mission City) and received an actual burial at sea instead of just being chucked overboard.


End file.
